


Spiraling Out Of Control

by kittyface27



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Best Friends, Broken Heart, Child Abuse, College Setting, Depression, Emotional pain, Everyone Has Issues, Ex-Best Friends, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, New World (One Piece), Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, angst with satisfying ending, grieving a friendship, poor ace, tossed in the trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23423440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyface27/pseuds/kittyface27
Summary: Having the most important person in your life throw you away can send you spiraling into a hell of loneliness and self-hatred. The question is whether you can pick yourself up, or fall too deep and never get out again. Ace goes through this, and his future is uncertain.Super angst and lots of suicidal thoughts.
Relationships: Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco & Portgas D. Ace & Thatch, Masked Deuce & Portgas D. Ace
Comments: 17
Kudos: 58





	1. Tossed In The Trash

**I started this fic a couple months ago in a really bad place. Had a breakup with my old bff, so I put my own feeling at the time into this story. I played up the angst and tragedy a lot, but the dynamics between Deuce and Ace are similar to how my friendship turned out. I even used some lines from our conversation. Trigger warnings for self-harm, child-abuse, depression, and suicidal thoughts and feelings. All around angst fic. Enjoy~**

* * *

Ace stared at his phone, waiting for the reply of his best friend. It had been six weeks since he messaged back, but Ace still had foolish hope that he could salvage the situation. He watched his phone, hoping that it would show that Deuce had seen the message. Eventually, Ace's eyes went out of focus as he stared at the dim screen, which soon turned black once nothing was being used on it.

He set his phone back down on the table and laid his head down on his books that he couldn't concentrate on. He was supposed to be doing homework, but he'd thought of something that might have piqued his friend's interest. It was something stupid, really, but in the past they would have laughed about it.

He stayed at the library until it got dark out, not ready to go back home yet. Especially since he'd gotten nothing done in the last three hours. His dad was going to be pissed at him. Eventually, Ace's phone beeped that it was low on battery, and gave him an excuse to see if Deuce had even seen his message. He hadn't.

Ace sighed sadly, ran his hands through his hair, and brought his books and computer together, stuffing them into his old backpack that was barely hanging on. His notebooks were falling apart and in horrible shape since he hadn't been able to buy new ones at the beginning of the semester. He'd just erased everything that he'd written in them for previous classes and reused the paper, even if it was hard to make out what was written.

He got on his bike and rode home, bike lights on high. He didn't live far from the library, so it took only a few minutes to get home. Home was a nice apartment. It was the third story out of four, and the outside was impeccable.

The college student hated it. Everyone thought he was so well off, living in such a nice place, when in reality he wasn't even allowed to buy himself new clothes, and instead took them from churches he wasn't a part of, who were donating clothes to the less fortunate. Everyone thought he had the perfect life. Well, it was far from perfect.

He opened the front door quietly, and locked it behind him, hurrying into his room, closing the door slowly to not make a sound. His dad was passed out drunk on the couch, which was better than him getting mad at Ace for having gone out, even if it was just for school. Well, was supposed to be. Instead, it had been him lost in dark thoughts.

Ace set his things down on his bed and changed into some comfortable clothes. They had holes and cigarette burns on them. Thankfully, they didn't smell of smoke. Ace was in charge of laundry, so he kept them nice and clean. How his life looked to be.

The young man didn't get any dinner, afraid to wake his father. It was always better when he didn't have to interact with Roger. The bruises were harder and harder to conceal. Ace was only given makeup to cover the evidence of what happened at home. There was nothing to do but lay in bed and look at his phone when he didn't want to risk waking up his father.

Deuce didn't message back or show that he had even looked. Ace didn't understand how he did it. How he would be online but also not see his messages? Sometimes they were seen and just ignored, and sometimes they were answered, like nothing was different. Like he wasn't being ignored. Like his self-esteem wasn't being crushed into the ground almost painfully.

It hurt especially because Ace knew that Deuce knew he was all the freckled man had. Ace had no other friends, and his only friend was leaving him. Had left him, no matter that Ace did so much to try and keep hanging on.

Months had passed while this happened. Months that Ace tried to confide in him, and months he'd been ignored. But, Ace would keep trying until it was official. Until Deuce finally told him the truth he knew. He was done with Ace. Ace was holding on too tightly. But what else could he do? There was no way he could make it all on his own. Not with zero family besides a drunk and abusive father.

Ace plugged the phone in and turned it on its face so the light wouldn't show. He laid in bed on his back, trying to ignore the itching feeling of worthlessness that plagued him constantly. He was told so every time he and his dad spoke, and now the whole thing with Deuce was making it worse. Conveying that he was right. Ace really _was_ worthless. Not even worth a single text.

-x-

Ace woke up the next morning from his alarm on his phone, turning it off immediately so it didn't wake Roger. He didn't know if he was still home or not. He didn't have a job, just lived off of his fortune he'd made in his youth. Ace didn't shower, but got dressed in his old clothes, a thick hoodie on over his plain shirt.

The college student purposely didn't look at his phone, not wanting to see he had no messages. No reply. Not worth anything. Anything at all.

The moment Ace knew he would start crying, he popped a Xanax in his mouth. Trying to fight off the anxiety and feelings he went through every day. He left his room and didn't even brush his teeth before fleeing the apartment. He didn't want to listen to Roger insult him before a tough school day. He had two tests that day. Computer programming and math, which was the hardest class he'd ever taken.

He got on his bike and rode in the bike lane on the wrong side of the road, like usual. The college was downtown, not too far from the library but not especially close to Ace's home. He had earbuds in, listening to the radio. He made sure this channel never played sad songs. The city was busy, but Ace kept aware, and reached the school in less than twenty minutes.

Locking his bike with two locks, one a coil and another a hard one since he'd never get another bike if this one was stolen, he hurried inside and to his math class. He ran up the stairs, too restless to wait for the elevator. A few of his classmates were standing outside the classroom door, as the room was locked and the professor hadn't arrived yet.

Ace couldn't help but check his phone, and his eyes brightened while his heart plummeted. A simple " _lol"_ was replied. Ace knew that Deuce never made short replies. Ace swallowed down the tears, refusing to be weak in front of his classmates. Plus, he had to focus on the math test. The guy that Ace sat next to was really smart, and always got As. Ace pushed himself to the brink to pass all his classes, sacrificing his mental health, which was especially fragile lately. Yet this guy seemed to know everything so easily.

If the freckled student wasn't so insecure, he might ask to meet sometime and have him help him with the parts Ace didn't understand. But, he didn't want to seem like an idiot, so he would just do his best to understand by himself.

The short message felt heavy in his phone inside his jacket pocket. It was stupid, but the phone felt like a brick and he wanted to chuck it out the window. He didn't, of course, for that would cause a scene and he couldn't afford to break his phone any more. Its screen was already cracked in both directions, but it still worked thankfully.

During the test, Ace's fingers shook as he fumbled with the buttons on his calculator, trying to figure out the problems. They should be easy, and everyone else was finishing. His hands began to sweat and shake, making writing more difficult and taxing. His face grew red and his eyes burned when everyone else had gotten up and finished the tests.

When Ace was done, not finished, but just _done,_ he turned it into the teacher with a look of shame. And the hopeless feelings that plagued him almost all day every day. _Lol._ The teacher looked at Ace with a sympathetic smile. She knew Ace was having trouble with something, but she didn't ask what. Instead, she suggested he try going to the campus counselor.

"I'm sorry my grades are getting worse," Ace replied, not acknowledging that he would not go to a counselor. He didn't see the point. If he told the truth, he was over eighteen. He couldnt be taken away from his father for child abuse. "I'm doing my best, really."

Ace's hands shook while he stood there. He slipped one hand into his pocket and felt the brick that was his phone. "I know you are, and that's all I ask. Have a good day, Ace," Miss Nico said kindly. Ace thanked her and hurried out of the room, pushing past the super smart guy and heading to the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

Programming went smoother. Though he made many mistakes on the test, he was hyper aware of misspellings that could ruin the entire code. The program was graded on the spot, and Ace got a high grade. Hey, he was actually good at something.

_Lol._

In the back of his head, that stupid text slang echoed. His face fell right after his teacher excused him with a smile. Ace was going to go to the library again. He did his very best not to look at his phone, which had returned to its normal weight as he rode his bike down the street.

When he got to the library, he sat in his normal corner, and brought out his laptop. His other books were at home, as they were all just too heavy to carry around every day. So, he went on his computer, watching YouTube videos that he wouldn't remember the second they ended.

_Lol._

His phone vibrated, and Ace was expecting it to be the notification of his math grade, but Deuce had messaged. Ace beamed, but felt foolish. He shouldn't give his friend so much power, but when he was the only pillar keeping Ace up, what was he to do?

_Do you want to hang out later today?_

Ace didn't know what to say. On one hand, he was dying to see his friend, hoping things would magically mend and go back to the way they were. But, on the other, he was hurt that Deuce was only acknowledging him on his own terms. But, Ace, being the foolish person he was, agreed immediately.

_How about we go to the movies?_

Ace didn't have the money, but agreed to anyway. Who needs groceries? Though part of him was irked since Deuce knew Ace couldn't afford things like this. Ace didn't know where things went wrong. But, maybe he could ask in person. The movie they were seeing wasn't particularly interesting sounding to him, but he was going to see Deuce and not just watch some corny adventure movie.

The young man showed up thirty minutes early. He'd misjudged how long it would take him to get there. _I'm here._

Ace saw that the message was seen, and assumed Deuce was driving or something, and he'd see him soon. People gathered around the entrance, and Ace thought he should go save their seats, and bought the ticket. _I'll meet you inside._

Again, the message was seen but not responded to. Ace waited in the theater as the seats filled up. He had his backpack in his lap as he sat in one of the seats where he could put his feet up on the bar. He waited, and waited, but no one came to him. No message made his phone's screen light up, since he'd silenced it to be courteous to the others.

Ace looked up when someone sat next to him, but it was just a guy with long black hair and a lot of makeup. Ace didn't look at him long, didn't notice the other two who sat down next to him. Ace didn't really want to see friends or groups being happy together. Not now, when he was sure his friendship of seven years was crumbling without his desire.

When the previews started, Ace checked his phone, and read, _Hey, I gotta cancel. Something came up._ Ace froze, his face falling harder than it had all day. He had had some hope to bring himself and Deuce back together, but Deuce didn't even seem to want to try. Ace swallowed thickly, and stood up and left the theater, breathing deeply.

He fell apart once he got outside, pulling his hood up to try and hide his face. He didn't want anyone he knew recognizing him crying. It would be humiliating, and he didn't need that feeling tacked on to everything else.

Still, he couldn't find the will, or maybe courage, to call Deuce out. If he got angry, then Deuce might leave for good, and they'd never be best friends anymore. But, he also didn't want to pester him. Did he just find Ace's messages annoying? He would maybe give him some space this time. Maybe his friend was just busy, or going through some tough times like Ace was. Though, he really did miss confiding in someone.

Ace panicked when he saw the same people who sat next to him in the theater come out. He'd been sitting against the side of the building for over two hours, and now he was gonna be late for dinner, and just hoped there was something in the fridge or Roger was asleep.

When he got home in a panic, Roger was very much awake, and glared at him when he entered the apartment, closing the door quietly behind him and locking it, as much as he didn't want to be locked in the same place as this man. "I'm sorry I'm late," Ace said, voice shaking. "I got a good grade on my programming test," he added, hoping to dull the blows he was going to get for not being home on time.

Screw Deuce for doing this to him. He knew what would happen if Ace didn't get home in time. But he should have thought about that when he agreed to see the movie. He'd blown off fourteen dollars just to leave before the movie even started. Roger didn't look proud, not that Ace expected him to. He just looked irritated. Ace didn't mention his math test, which he still didn't know the grade of.

"Make dinner, now," Roger commanded. It was a Thursday, so he didn't have any homework to do. He hurried to the kitchen, not even stopping to use the bathroom since he'd had to pee since walking out of the building. Ace quickly got to making breakfast for dinner. Roger had a schedule for the week's dinner, and tonight was breakfast.

His hands shook while he cooked, lost in his dark thoughts. Deuce canceled on him and set him up for his father's wrath. Since it was Thursday, and he didn't have anywhere to go tomorrow, he was probably going to be beaten tonight. The bruises were expected to heal by Monday. He served dinner to Roger at the couch on one of those dinner stands that folds up.

Ace took his much smaller serving to the dining room table, which was cluttered except for a small space that he sat at to eat. Ace was lost in his thoughts, pushing the food on his plate around, having no appetite. Not when he was so upset he felt he was going to throw up. He eventually did finish the food, even if he hated it. He didn't want to eat it, but he knew he needed food.

He cleaned up Roger's serving without being told to, taking the empty beer can and rinsing it out before tossing it in the recycling. The leftovers went into the fridge or into the trash, depending on what it was. Ace didn't even try to get to his room before standing in front of his dad. He looked up, but not with any dignified expression. He was no longer defiant to the beatings, he knew there was nothing he could do to stop them.

Ace had nowhere else to go if he left his father. And now that Deuce was ignoring him, his place was not an option. The first punch wasn't too bad. The second was worse, across his face, slamming into his left eye. There would be a bad bruise. And he was out of concealer, so he'd have to get some at the store.

He made no sound, but didn't fight back either. Even when his groin was kicked, he made no move that it hurt when it did, badly. It was a short session, and Ace went to the bathroom once he was excused to clean off the blood that was dried around his nose. It wasn't broken, thankfully.

Ace then hid in his room, and didn't come out the rest of the night. He cried softly into his pillow, hating himself for not being strong enough to text Deuce and tell him off for canceling on such short notice. He wasn't brave enough to text again, and maybe be deceived. Ace much as Ace wanted the truth, he was just as afraid to get it.

Was there something wrong with him? Had he done something wrong? He had no one to talk to about this. No one was there for him when he needed them. Not his father, or his best friend. But friend wasn't even a word that applied to Deuce anymore. But Ace couldn't let him go. He just clung tighter, emotionally. He hadn't seen Deuce face to face in weeks, afraid. So afraid.

His best friend didn't want him anymore. It was clear, but Ace just couldn't face the fact. He knew! Part of him _knew_ it was over. That Ace should end it based on how he was being treated, but he was weak. He couldn't do it. Not when he was the only thing he had. A pillar that had held him up for so many years that Ace wasn't strong enough to stand up once it crumbled.

-x-

Ace had fifteen dollars in his pocket while he shopped at the Sephora in the mall, looking for his concealer. The one he always used when injured. Well, when the injuries needed to be hidden. If he skinned his knee on his bike, he didn't hide it. But when they were from his dad, no one would see them.

Luckily, Ace didn't know anyone who could connect the dots of his injuries, especially since he was so good at hiding them. The bruise around his eye was nasty, a dark circle around it that stretched across his nose a bit. He should have gone shopping before it was needed. Idiot.

Then, Ace ran into someone he wasn't expecting to see. He didn't notice his classmate while they were at the same stand. Ace was lost in his thoughts, dark as they always seemed to be lately. He was always on the verge between screaming angrily and crying, balanced perfectly between so he was empty. He didn't pay attention to anyone or anything other than what he was doing.

"Hey, Ace, right?" the smart guy from Ace's math class asked. Ace startled, looking up at him. Marco was his name. Ace just remembered him as "pineapple head". He'd probably be offended if Ace ever called him that. The young man didn't want anyone else hating him. Family and friends were almost too much.

"Whoa, what happened to your eye?" Marco asked in concern.

"I fell," Ace said in a monotone voice, not wanting to talk to Marco, and definitely not about the source of his black eye. Part of him wondered why Marco was looking at the boldest eye shadows, but the rest of him wasn't interested. Didn't care much, really. Marco clearly didn't believe him, but didn't pry, which Ace was grateful for. "See you Tuesday," Ace said and turned around to go pay for his concealer.

Once he got outside, he felt bad for being rude to Marco. He just didn't want to talk to anyone right now. Anyone but Deuce. Ace shoved the bag into his backpack, which had been searched, not much to his protest. He hadn't stolen anything, and had the receipts to his concealer. His phone felt heavier than usual, and he knew that it was impossible and just in his head, but even in his hands, his phone felt heavier than his whole backpack.

He rode his bike home, before stopping outside of the apartment's entrance. He stood there, staring at his reflection in the double glass doors. His face was pale, the bruise standing out as if someone painted a black spot on his eye. He had circles under his eyes, and not just from his insomnia. His eyes were red from constantly being on the verge of tears.

He also seemed to have lost weight. His clothes hung on him. He'd never been built, since he didn't get enough food and wouldn't dream of asking for money to go to the gym. He was also on excess units, out of financial aid, so he couldn't take an unnecessary class, like weight training or even yoga.

Instead of going inside, Ace got back on his bike and rode away, towards the one person he needed to see. Maybe wanted to see, too. But, he was angry. Though he didn't know if he was strong enough to show the anger when it might make Deuce angry, too. Angrier than he already was. Because why else would he avoid Ace?

The college student remembered all those times Deuce had told him he wanted to die. And how Ace had basically been his therapist, and was the one to get his friend on medications that helped him through dark times. And now he couldn't even spare Ace a text. A nice one.

He got off his bike once he reached Deuce's house and walked it up the sidewalk to the blue front door. Ace's hand shook, inches away from the doorbell. He gritted his teeth and shot his hand out, ringing the doorbell, heart beating. Now he couldn't go without being seen as weird, and maybe pissing Deuce off.

The door opened and Ace saw his friend for the first time in over a month. He looked perfectly fine and healthy, so the theory that he was actually sick just flew out the window. Deuce looked surprised, but not particularly happy to see Ace. who was supposed to be his closest friend. "Hey, Ace," the blue haired man said. He had the sense to sound awkward. Ace's heart beat rapidly in his chest.

"Where have you been?" Ace asked in a small voice. He couldn't be the only one who noticed his voice was shaking. "I've messaged you and you almost never reply."

"I was working and then I wanted to message you, but it felt impossible, y'know? I kept meaning to message you." Ace didn't know what his friend was playing at. He was acting uncomfortable, but his voice betrayed him. Like this was rehearsed and he didn't want to be wasting his time saying it.

"You were working all day every day for seven weeks?" Ace asked quietly. Deuce pursed his lips. "We're best friends." Though, he sounded uncertain, not knowing if those words even _should_ apply to their relationship. What was left of it.

"Look," Deuce began, sounding impatient. "I know you have problems at home and everything, but I just don't want to do this anymore. Us. I don't want to do us anymore." Ace almost shouted about being beaten, not just problems at home! Deuce hadn't even mentioned the bruise on his face. "You're too clingy. I've been trying to send you signals that I want out, but you keep hanging on."

Ace felt like he was crumbling into little pieces. His ears started ringing, though he heard Deuce's voice loud and clear. It sent shards of glass into his heart. It was his fault after all. "You… don't want to be friends anymore?" Ace asked in a small, shaking voice. He felt shivers go up his neck, meaning he was about to start crying. He didn't want to yet, not in front of this _asshole._

"No, it's just hard being your friend sometimes. I'm just… I don't want to do it anymore." Then he added, "It's nothing personal," even though he'd just said he didn't want to be with Ace because he was clingy and annoying. "I'm sure you can make other friends, right?"

Ace honestly would have rather seen Deuce angry instead of this calm, collected man who was breaking up his best friendship for seven years. No, Ace couldn't make other friends! Deuce was the only one! It wasn't hard for Deuce to make friends, he was a confident extrovert. Ace was closed off, cold, and unable to connect with other people. Maybe that's why he was so annoying and worthless. Because he clung to Deuce so much.

But who else could he hold onto when he lived like this? He was broken, shattered, but Deuce had always kept his pieces in the same place. He'd never been able to heal Ace's heart, but he was there for him despite that. Now, he was gone. Ace was gonna pass out if he stayed any more time with Deuce. He shot him a hateful and pained look before getting on his bike and riding away as fast as he could, tears burning his eyes in the cold air.

His hands shook as he rode, not really going anywhere in particular. Just following the bike lane until he knew he was going to throw up and couldn't risk being on the bike anymore. He turned into the park and rode until he was to an empty spot. He dropped his bike on the dirt and collapsed onto the picnic table, letting himself fall apart.

Finally, he had the truth. And it was something he'd not been expecting. Sure, he had a horrible feeling that he was annoying Deuce, but the man had just made light of Ace's abuse. He didn't want to play the victim, even in his own head, but he wasn't just verbally abused, he was assaulted on a weekly, or even daily, basis. Somehow, Deuce made that about him. It was too hard for him to support his friend when he desperately needed it.

But, maybe he needed it too much. Too often. Why did he wait seven weeks to ask why he was being ignored? Would it have been better to know sooner? Or had it been better to cling to that hope for all this time, that he would be close to his friend again?

Well, not friend anymore. Deuce had said nothing about staying in any relationship, not just not being best friends anymore. They were over, and Ace sobbed into the cold air, not caring about the people that were passing him, though there were few.

His stomach growled uncomfortably, and he knew he should go home. He'd been at the park for hours, even after the sobbing subsided and all that was left was an empty space that had been his heart. Deuce had taken it out and ripped it to shreds, knowing he had that power.

Though, it was Ace's fault for being annoying and clingy. It was his fault he couldn't fight back against his dad's beatings. He was weak… worthless… a waste of space. Ace had never been more miserable. He looked at the bridge nearby that was over the river. Only for a second he saw himself standing at the edge.

The image faded away quickly. Ace wasn't going to kill himself. He only had half a semester left. He could wait.


	2. Losing It

**Sixcupsofcoffeetogo: Thank you! I'm so sorry work has been hard. :(**

* * *

**This chapter may be the darkest out of the whole story. Heavy abuse and lots of suicidal thoughts and self-harm. And just plain old angst. On a lighter note, Toei made a clip of the Strawhats talking about the Coronavirus. Check out out on One Piece's facebook page. Enjoy~**

* * *

Ace didn't get hit at all over the weekend, which he didn't know if it was actually a good thing. Maybe if his dad beat him hard enough, it would negate the emotional turmoil he was in. Banging his head against the floor had given him a headache. He wasn't brave enough to try anything else, even though he had his own bathroom.

He barely slept that weekend, but didn't leave his room, not wanting to risk Roger being in the living room. He couldn't let the man see him crying. He would mock Ace for it, and that wouldn't help things. Ace ended up drawing, staying off his computer to close himself from the rest of the world for as long as possible.

Deuce's words played through his head in the background almost the whole weekend. He couldn't get any homework done, and took Xanax as often as he could without overdosing. He was careful with that.

By the time Monday came, Ace was numb. His eyes were shadowed, bags under them. He had the concealer applied. He looked sicky, but he went through the motions of class. Did his homework during his break between classes that he'd avoided all weekend. Well, not avoided. He just couldn't focus on it.

He had tried, but he made tons of mistakes, and it made him not only feel worthless, unwanted, alone, but also _stupid._ He didn't need that added to the toxic mix in his head. Marco had tried talking to him, but Ace ignored him. He did feel bad, since the guy seemed nice and genuinely concerned, but he couldn't deal with anyone but himself right now.

Instead of going to the library like usual, Ace walked up the hill on campus, and sat down in the icy grass, barely feeling the cold around and under him. His eyes burned with unshed tears. Keeping himself together for class was exhausting, and hard. When it was quiet, all he heard was his own voice putting him down. When it was noisy, he got antsy and wanted it to be quiet.

Stuck in a loop of being miserable no matter what he was doing. He hoped this would pass, but he felt it would only get worse before it got better.

When he got home, he walked straight to the kitchen to start dinner. At least it was something productive. Again, he wondered in the back of his mind if Roger's beatings would feel less painful than his thoughts and feelings.

Pausing at the cooking for a moment, wondering what he should do, he thought for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. Maybe, his dad would forget it happened. Maybe he would be angry about it. Maybe he'd cause worse damage than a bruise, and Ace could be hospitalized, getting a break from both school and home. That was the best case scenario as far as he was concerned.

He turned the stove off, and walked straight to the couch, not even thinking or worrying before he grabbed Roger's black hair and yanked it back. To say the man was surprised was an understatement. What followed was the worst beating he'd gotten _ever._ By the end, his nose was bloodied, his wrist sprained, new bruises and a cut across his lip, and best of all, a dislocated shoulder that he had to go to the hospital to be fixed.

He left the apartment without a word, satisfied with the outcome. He called 911 and felt relaxed and happy in the ambulance. He didn't worry about what he would come home to. And he didn't realize he'd only made things much worse in the long run.

Ace was excused from school the next day, though he wished he'd stay away longer. Not be around people unless necessary, but there was nothing he could do. What he didn't expect was to be in the hospital bed, wounds cleaned and stitched up, and see the police arrive. Ace's face drained of color when they entered the curtained area.

"We need to ask you some questions, Ace," the female cop of the two asked. The man sat down on a chair next to the bed while the other chose to stand. They had Ace tell them what had happened, making sure he knew it would not be in his best interest to lie. So, Ace told the truth.

He didn't understand the sad looks he was given when he said, "I deserved it. I made him mad, so he beat me. Like usual. I'm fine." Those words incriminated his father, making it clear this had been happening for a long time. When asked how long, Ace told the truth again. Since he was eleven.

By the beginning of the next day, Ace could no longer return to his home. He felt hatred towards himself even stronger than before this happened. Not only had his actions made his best friend hate him, it got his home taken away and father most likely in prison. This was not the intention Ace had when he provoked his father. He couldn't imagine how it could get worse.

-x-

Ace was back at school on Thursday, covered in bandages and bruises. He didn't have his concealer with him, it was at his old place. He was staying in hospital until they found somewhere for him to go. He had to call an Uber to take him to school since he wasn't allowed on his bike in this condition.

The small amount of belongings he cared about were in his hospital room. He was miserable at school, and his right wrist was in a brace, so it was hard to write. He was irritated when Marco asked him if he was alright. Clearly, he was not alright! Why didn't he just leave Ace alone? Ace wanted to be by himself. He didn't want to ruin anything or anyone else.

When Marco followed Ace out of class on Thursday, he was stopped by a familiar looking long haired man. "Marco, leave him alone. Don't pry," he snapped. Ace was grateful for his interference, but didn't say anything. He just left the building and hurried to the street to call another Uber to take him back to the hospital.

He felt empty when he was told he had to leave. Expecting to be taken to a homeless shelter, since the rest of his family was dead or disowned him, he was surprised when he was given a brochure. "What is it?" he asked dumbly, instead of reading what it said. He had his suitcases next to him in the lobby, signing out when a pamphlet was given to him.

"It's a place for youth in need of assistance. Not a homeless shelter. You'll be given counseling there, and have all the necessities to living comfortably until you're back on your feet." Ace thought her words were wishful thinking. He'd be dead before he got on his own two feet to live alone. Ace was going to finish this semester, graduate, and then see if he was going to kill himself. Maybe he'd find something good, though as he was now, he doubted that outcome.

He'd probably be dead in a few months. The car drove him and his belongings to a large estate, not too far from the city, but far enough to not have the noises of cars. Once Ace was allowed to ride his bike again, he would need to leave earlier to get to school on time.

The estate was big but homey looking, the building being made of wood exterior. He didn't know how long he'd be spending here. He had a bag of clothes, a bag of personal things like photos, and a bag of his school things and laptop. Not much, really. He had never realized how little he had. At least of the things he cared to keep.

Ace was greeted at the front door by a large, old man. He had a mustache that Ace thought was weird. He didn't think much besides that, not really caring. He barely heard what Newgate said. His name was strange to Ace, but then again his name was _Ace._ Newgate led Ace through the home and up the stairs, easily picking up the bags Ace couldn't carry with his good hand. The room he was given was nice, and he didn't need to share it with anyone else.

There were many rooms in the upper story hallway, and Ace's had his own name written on a whiteboard hanging on the door. Ace later met others who were there. There were many of them, though some looked happier than others. Ace was the only one who was visibly injured. He had trouble eating with his right hand, so he clumsily used his left. He wondered what Deuce would think of what happened.

Probably wouldn't care much. Ace barely listened as he was told that some of those at the table had stayed on the property and had been adopted into the family. The young man briefly wondered why they would want to stay.

He was shocked and horrified when Marco walked into the dining room. It was Saturday, so he hadn't seen him since two days ago. Ace didn't look much improved since then. Maybe looked even more miserable, getting barely any sleep the night before.

Marco looked just as surprised as Ace to see him there. But, he was courteous and didn't mention that he already knew Ace. The newcomer was embarrassed out of his mind, an emotion he hadn't felt in what felt like a long time. He didn't really understand how horrible he looked. Everyone at the table kept looking at him, like those at school had done.

He had various cuts, huge bruises, a wrist brace, and tape across his nose. He didn't have any concealer on, so that old bruise he'd hidden was still there. He was just lucky he hadn't lost any teeth in the beating.

Dinner was uncomfortable for him, but no one asked him invasive questions, and the moment dinner was announced to be over, Ace left the room and retired to his own. He wondered if Deuce had heard about what happened. He probably didn't care if he did. They weren't friends anymore.

Everyone was considerate enough to leave Ace alone that night. He didn't know if that was what he wanted. To be alone in a new place full of people he had never met. He fell asleep easily, the door locked, which he was used to. He was glad there was a lock on the door. When he woke up, he wasn't confused as to where he was. How could he forget what had happened? What he'd done, just to try and forget the pain.

His dad had every right to beat him to death after what Ace caused. And he wouldn't be surprised if the man broke out of prison to do just that. Ace looked at the brace on his hand and sighed. He turned on his side, wincing at the pressure on his cut lip and bruised face. There was a bathroom attached to his own, and he wondered if each bedroom had one. This place was more like a facility than a home. Ace briefly wondered how much money Newgate had to do this. But, the thought of interest fluttered away like a feather in the wind. It didn't matter. He didn't really care.

Ace walked into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. Punching it to shards probably wouldn't leave a very good first impression on anyone there. Plus, he didn't want to get hurt right now. He was too much of a coward to hurt himself on purpose, which was the reason he turned to his dad to put him in pain for him. And look how that fucking went.

He did take a shower, using the product that was already there. Smelled like coconuts. Ace didn't know why they would choose something that smelled this strong for someone on their first night there. Strawberry or faint lavender, but not fragrant coconut. He didn't hate it, he just didn't like it much.

His clothes were still in their bags, and he didn't care to open the bag and dig through it, trying to find a shirt, leaving the clothes all over the floor. He'd clean it up later, maybe. He was dressing in pants when there was a knock on his bedroom door. There was no peephole, even though that would be pretty neat.

"Who is it?" Ace asked in a monotone voice. He sounded exhausted, but he always was lately.

"It's Marco," Marco said quietly. "Breakfast is ready in case you want to come down." Ace wondered who he was to this place. Was he a worker, or did he live here, too? Ace was thankful he gave the option of not going down to eat.

"Thanks. I'll go down in a little bit," Ace replied. When Marco said okay, Ace leaned his forehead against the door, face crumpling into a look of misery. He would cause everyone trouble here, too. He had gotten his Xanax taken away for precaution after what Ace had admitted. About him purposely making Roger beat the living crap out of him.

He brushed his teeth with the one provided, still in its package to show it was new. He didn't think twice about the marks on his face, as there was nothing he could do about it. He had nothing to hide them with, but he didn't like the staring. He knew he'd stare, too, but didn't like being on the receiving end much.

Another knock on the door came, and Ace asked who it was again. It was someone he didn't know. "My name is Izo. I have something for you." Ace was surprised slightly, and opened the door to see the man who had made Marco stop following him the other day. Izo was very eccentrically dressed, with tons of makeup on. Ace made the connection that his eyeshadow looked like the one Marco had been looking at when they met each other at Sephora.

Izo held out a little jar of expensive looking cream. "It's concealer. It should match your skin color okay. I know what it's like to be ogled, so I wanted you to use this if you want." Ace tried to reply, but was getting choked up. Some stranger was being nicer to him than anyone had been in a long time. Not pity like the police and hospital staff.

"Thanks," Ace said with a thick voice, before slamming the door shut in the man's face. He hoped Izo didn't take it personally, and that Ace just didn't want to show his emotions in front of him. He wondered what Izo would be ogled at for that he didn't want from his flashy outfit and make up.

Then, he remembered that everyone here was homeless, and had some circumstance where they had nowhere else to go. So they were dropped off here. Some stayed, but those ones had to have come here for some reason at first themselves. He wondered why Marco was here. But, it was none of his business. Like Ace's situation was no one else's business either.

Ace applied to make up to his bruise eye and nose. It was the perfect shade, and he was impressed that Izo could tell just be seeing him a couple times. He took the creme with him when he was composed enough to leave the room, having taken many deep, calming breaths before opening the door.

He saw someone else walking down the hall, a clearly older man than Ace, with a very over the top hairdo and a scar on his face. Ace realized again that most of the people (all of them) were adults. He wasn't in an orphanage. These were adults, probably with jobs or going to school like Ace was. And Marco, too. Izo had been at school, too, so he probably attended college as well.

Ace had never had any siblings before, so he didn't know what it would be like. But then he scoffed at himself. No one here would like him enough to call him brother, and he didn't want to be. He walked down the stairs, and followed the nauseating smell of food into the dining room with that massive table that housed at least 16 people, including Ace. He was grateful no one stared, even though they noticed the bruise was not there anymore. But, they got the explanation when Ace handed Izo his creme with another thanks.

Ace sat at one of the empty chairs, of which there were many, and stared at his plate of food. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, and toast. The sight made Ace sick because this was exactly what he made for dinner at Roger's demand. He swallowed and slowly ate the food, clearly not enjoying it.

"Ace, you don't need to eat the food if you don't like it. There is some cereal and milk in the kitchen," Marco said kindly from across the table. Ace's face went red. He wasn't used to being around this many people except at school. They glanced at him, but didn't stare. The glance was enough to make Ace uncomfortable however.

He stood up and walked to the kitchen to find something to eat. All he could stomach was a banana, and didn't return to the table. Eating with a bunch of people had never been what Ace did. He always sat alone while Roger was passed out or on the couch.

Ace eventually gathered the courage to leave the kitchen and look around a bit. The kitchen was huge, clearly meant to feed at least a dozen or so people. The backyard was also pretty big from what he could see through the window. He didn't go outside for no reason because it was cold, so he wandered around the house some more. The upstairs was much more like a facility than the downstairs.

He found a door that led to the backyard he hadn't seen, and saw many cars parked in a parking lot. At the house, there was a parking lot. Ace had never seen anywhere like this before. He felt he hadn't even explored half of the downstairs before someone came across him. Ace was ready to get yelled at for not coming back and leaving his plate there for someone else to clean.

But, that's not what happened. "Are you wondering how big this place is?" a higher pitched voice asked. It was a mousy haired young man, shorter than Ace. "My name is Haruta. I'd say it's nice to meet you, but I know not everyone thinks about coming here being a good thing. Anyways, the house is 8,000 square feet. Not including the back yard or basement. If you want some place quiet, the basement is a converted lounge and library."

Ace nodded and thanked him quietly for telling him. "I -I'm sorry I left my plate of food at the table," he said, sounding ashamed. Haruta smiled, and said, "It's no big deal. Thatch ate your serving once it was clear you weren't coming back. If you're ever hungry, he kitchen is free reign."

"Thank you," Ace muttered. Haruta nodded and walked the way he had been heading. Ace decided he'd try the library/basement. He didn't ask for directions, just looked for a staircase that led down instead of up. It didn't take long to find. It was fully lit so it didn't give off a creepy feeling. There was no one else in there, and Ace looked around the surprisingly small space with sad eyes. Deuce would have liked this place…

He slapped his cheeks, but that hurt his bruises pretty bad and he swore, squinting at the pain in irritation. He dropped the thoughts of his _ex-_ friend and looked through the books. Mostly fiction, with some encyclopedias thrown in. Ace had a feeling the inhabitants just put the books back on the shelves which was why nothing was in order.

Just to have something to do, Ace started reshelving the books. He had no homework, since he'd finished his program and his math homework wasn't due until Tuesday. He wanted to feel productive, maybe do something to contribute to something good? If that was what he was doing, then this wasn't very effective, but it was something and it kept his mind busy.

Eventually, someone entered the room, coming down the stairs. Ace hesitated to look up, not knowing if he was in trouble, or if someone was laughing at what he was doing. When he did look up, he found Marco looking at him. He had a bottle of water in one hand and a soda in the other.

"Need any help?" he asked. Ace shook his head and went back to work. It wasn't a massive library so it wouldn't take too long. "We've been meaning to do this for awhile, so thanks. You didn't have to, though." Ace didn't reply, not sure what to say. He was uncomfortable around others besides his teachers and Deuce. Now he was surrounded by strangers, his best friend non-existent anymore, and Roger was going to jail.

He really wanted to blame everything on Deuce and how his actions hurt Ace and made him want to hurt himself, and instead turning to someone else to do the dirty work for him. But he knew it was unfair and wrong to put _all_ the blame on Deuce. He could take most of it, but Ace had been the one who couldn't handle the split.

Marco sat down on one of the couches, and politely didn't watch Ace, since he looked up and saw Marco was reading something he picked up off the coffee table. "Why are you here?" Ace asked bluntly. "Why do you keep trying to talk to me?" He didn't understand the interest Marco showed in him when his own friend and family don't show any interest in him anymore. Except to beat him up.

Marco looked over at him, wearing a frown. "You seem like you need a friend." The word almost had a visceral reaction in Ace. He scowled, surprising Marco.

"I don't need friends," Ace growled, and went back to his work. He was almost done, he wasn't going to quit now, even if he really wanted to leave the room.

"Hmm, I think everyone needs friends. And even if you don't want them, you should still have some," Marco replied smoothly, not commenting on how hostile Ace's tone had become so suddenly.

"Friends and family are bullshit. There's no one you can ever trust but yourself," Ace grumbled. He shoved the last book, which started with a "Z", into place and stomped up the stairs and away from Marco. Almost immediately, he felt bad. Marco was trying to be nice, but Ace just wanted to be left alone. At least for now. He wasn't ready to have new friends, and didn't expect to ever have family. The word had never meant to him what it meant to so many others.

Everyone holds their family on a pedestal. They were the best people. Yeah, well before Ace split with most of his family, he was told that Roger once pissed on him when he was crying as a baby. Yeah, family was the _best._ Blood ties had never been anything to Ace. Not when he was repeatedly beaten since he was a child for minor mistakes or just because Roger was having a bad day.

Ace resisted going back downstairs and apologizing. He instead walked back the way he came and headed to his new room, wanting to take a bath. He wondered if it was possible to drown yourself, but he didn't feel like trying right now. He tried to avoid talking to anyone when he was going back to his room, but he passed many people. He had to notice there were no women here. Not that he'd seen so far.

He didn't care much about the opposite sex any different than he did his own. In college, most of the smart women were in math, and sadly, there was only one woman in any of his programming classes. And he knew that lady was bothered by the leering she got from the guys in the class.

She dealt with it with grace and confidence. Shutting them down and insisting they were nothing to her other than classmates. It was necessary for her to be able to focus. Ace didn't know her name. Just that her major was in animation.

When Newgate crossed his path, he smiled down at him and handed him a piece of paper. "It's the schedule for counseling appointments. We have female and male counselors that come and visit the estate for visits. When you've decided when, please tell me."

"I don't need counseling," Ace said back, crumpling the paper in his fist. Newgate smiled sadly at him, and it made Ace bristle under the gaze.

"Almost every single person, regardless of age, didn't accept seeing a counselor, but if you ask any of them now, they will tell you it is a life saver. No one will force you, but I highly recommend you try. It's free here. Just give it a try," Newgate encouraged. Ace didn't reply, just stared at the floor until the man walked away, Ace hurrying up the large staircase.

If Ace went to counseling, they would know how messed up he was in the head. He'd get thrown inside an insane asylum or something. He saw no benefit of telling all his secrets to some stranger. He didn't believe that the people he met here all went to counseling, too. Newgate was lying, trying to make Ace feel better. Well, it hadn't worked at all.

He tossed the pamphlet into the trash next to his bed after tearing it apart. He didn't need to tell someone his problems. After all, the last time he did that, his father was convicted and he was sent to this adult foster-home-place. Ace was glad no one bothered him until lunch. Izo was at the door. So far, Ace liked him the most. He stopped Marco from prying and had brought him that concealer earlier that day. It had meant a lot to Ace, but he wouldn't let himself get attached. Not to anyone ever again. You can't trust anything anybody says. Always be prepared to be betrayed, like Deuce had to Ace.

"Ace, lunch is ready in case you are hungry," Izo said through the door. Ace didn't answer for a moment, but decided to and just thanked him. Ace sat on the bed for quite a while before he left to get food, walking slowly and trying to listen to anyone coming around the corner he was heading towards.

He looked at the whiteboards on each door. Some had doodles on them while others just had names. Ace made it to the staircase without seeing anyone and meandered to the kitchen, taking up the offer to not eat with everyone and to get his own food. He looked in the pantry, not wanting to take anything that had been cooked, and found some Cheerios. He poured himself a bowl and then filled it with only enough milk for it to work. He didn't want to waste too much on his worthless self.

He ate the cereal around the corner of the kitchen so it was less likely anyone would see him while he was eating. He was used to not eating too much, so he only had, really, half a bowl of the cereal. He didn't want to eat too much. No one bothered him, and he wondered if they just forgot he was there. Maybe this was what they did for everyone.

Ace barely peeked his head around the side of the cut out wall in the kitchen to see everyone laughing and talking with each other. A couple seemed down, but they were still interacting. Ace honestly didn't know how to talk to a group of people, let alone one of strangers. He might get overwhelmed. The laughing reminded him of how he and Deuce used to be in the prime of their friendship.

Thinking about him brought angry and hurt tears to his eyes, making them sting a bit. He turned around and strode to the library, hoping Marco was gone. He walked down the stairs and looked around to see that the blonde haired classmate was gone. Ace took a risk and closed the latch that led to the basement. He locked it, too. He needed to make sure he had alone time. And he didn't want to be in that bedroom that looked eerily like a hospital room.

The library was cozy and comfortable. He sat on the couch, looking at the cement ceiling above him. His phone didn't feel so heavy anymore, knowing his old friend was done with him and probably wouldn't send anymore messages.

If Ace killed himself, would Deuce even care? Would he feel responsible for it? The freckled man felt guilty and like a bad person for hoping it would make Deuce guilty and miserable. Everything started when he left Ace to carry the weights of his life alone. And he hadn't been strong enough to shoulder everything that had happened to him. He was weak.

He felt weak instead of strong for dealing with the physical abuse at home. Strong for being able to withstand the weekly or daily beatings. Weak for never fighting back. Never once, had he told Roger to stop, or fought back. He was scared it would only get worse, so he took the pain and hid it from everyone but his best friend.

Ace glanced at his phone, and tried to hook up to the wifi of this place. The one that popped up, the only one, was a strange name: "Whitebeard pirates". He was momentarily curious, but it fizzled away quickly. He went to YouTube and tried to watch something funny. But all the jokes that he would have previously thought were funny fell flat for Ace.

So, instead, he looked at the books, trying to pick one out. He wished he had his Xanax so he could maybe have some of his feelings dulled. He'd never overdose on them. At least, not now. He took them sparingly, wanting each bottle to last as long as possible.

While he read, which was just staring at the same page for a long time, he thought about the concept of counseling. He refused to do it. He refused to let someone else know how messed up he was. He had _wanted_ the shit beat out of him. And that's not normal. He'd probably go to the mental hospital if he mentioned his sorta-kinda plan to kill himself.

Ace wouldn't talk to some stranger. He wouldn't.


	3. Unwanted Helping Hands

**Meep: Nah, I got rid of that asshole early.**

**Sixcupsofcoffeetogo: I make it even worse for him. Mwahahaha!**

* * *

**There's a bloody dream in this one, a bit graphic. Enjoy~**

* * *

The first night he spent at the estate was full of tears. Of self-hate, anger, self-pity and guilt. He barely slept at all, and was thankful there was no school the next day or he'd have trouble getting through the day. He eventually fell asleep at around 2 AM. But he woke up with tears as well. Like his body woke up _just_ to make him cry. Like a weak person. Which he was.

He changed clothes, and looked in the mirror in the bathroom. He really wanted to punch it, especially the spots where it showed his injuries. It was too early for breakfast, only 6 AM, as he'd slept for only four hours. He didn't wear his shoes, not wanting to wake anyone with his footsteps.

When he looked in the dining room, he saw no one. Everyone must still be asleep, or maybe some had gone to work. He headed into the kitchen, not intending to eat. He didn't have an appetite at the moment. He didn't hear someone working in there, and it was too late to leave before he was spotted.

It was the guy with the scar and big hair. He had bags under his eyes, and looked at least six years older than Ace. "Hi, Ace," the guy said in a sad voice. It mirrored Ace's tone of his thoughts. "I'm Thatch. Do you usually get up this early?" Ace shook his head, but said nothing. "If you don't want to eat anything, we have some protein shakes you can have for breakfast and you won't need to eat anything."

Ace politely declined, ready to leave, before Thatch said something else. Ace really didn't want to talk, but he didn't want to seem rude or like an asshole. "You know, everyone is closed off and introverted when they first come here. No one wants to talk to strangers, especially counselors. We hide in our rooms or somewhere else so we didn't have to talk to anyone.

"We understand how you feel, even if we might not know your situation. If you don't want to see a professional, you can always talk to one of us. You're not alone here, no matter how much you feel that way." He finished with a smile, and Ace's face crumpled, but he left before any tears came. Thatch didn't follow, which he was thankful for.

He headed back to the library, which was thankfully empty again. He looked at the coffee table to see some snacks and candy on a plate. " _In case you aren't hungry in the morning, you can snack on these until you are."_ It was a sticky note next to the food. He didn't know who had written it, but assumed it was Marco since he was the one who knew Ace came in here. But, maybe he had told everyone else.

Ace looked at the treats, but didn't have any wish to eat any of them. He hadn't had real dessert in a long time. Not since last semester's potluck instead of the final. Ace picked up the book he had stared at the day before, and tried reading it. He got about ten pages in before there was a knock on the hatch Ace had closed but not locked.

He stood up and sleepily walked to the hatch and opened it to see Izo, already completely dressed and had his make up on. It was only 7:15 and he was completely ready. "I've brought you the concealer again," the man said, and handed Ace the creme and a small mirror. "You can use this to cover the cuts, too, if you want," he added and handed Ace a Q-Tip. Then he pulled lipstick out of his pocket. "This is for the cut on your lip if you want to cover it. It should match your lips."

"Thank you," Ace mumbled, looking at the steps he was standing on. Izo gave him a smile and left, gently closing the hatch for Ace. He went back to the couch to apply the makeup. The lipstick was weird to use, but he had been right. It disguised the cut on his bottom lip.

The bruises from the last beating were now yellow and green. The heavy one that was his black eye was faded enough to be easy to cover up. They were still sensitive, especially the ones on his face and chest. Ace wondered if he'd ever be beaten again. He didn't know what other kind of punishment he would be given to if he did something wrong here.

They didn't seem like they'd beat him, but he also thought Deuce would be his best friend for life. How naive he was.

Ace stayed in the library for a couple hours before his stomach started to growl. He cautiously left the library and headed to the kitchen. No one was there, but there was another act of kindness left for him, and he didn't really know how to react to it. He knew at school you said thank you, but did Ace have to give them something in return? When he had spent Christmas with his old family, they exchanged gifts. Nothing was given for free.

The note was stuck on a bag of protein powder. There were four flavors, and he picked the vanilla ice cream version, never having had a protein shake before. He followed the directions and got milk from the refrigerator. There was a special cup for the drink, standing next to the bags.

Ace didn't like it much, but he drank the whole thing. It was too sweet for his taste, but he at least didn't need to eat anything. He also didn't want to waste anything. He wondered why everyone so far was being nice to him. Who would want to be friends, or even spend time with him? He was so messed up in the head, he was crazy. Besides, they'd all forget all about him when he left this place or died.

He couldn't help but run into multiple people since everyone was up by now. They either said "hi", or just smiled at him reassuringly. It made him think that maybe Thatch was right. They were all here for a reason, either better or worse than Ace's reason. They were giving him space, but being nice when they could, and doing their best to make it comfortable for him. Which was why they were leaving notes.

Izo was really nice, and Marco seemed he was trying, too, but he went to school with them. He didn't want to have them know stuff about Ace that wasn't school related. He regretted not keeping any of his friends from other semesters. He had been sure Deuce was enough. And he didn't want to get close to anyone only for them to pity his home situation.

Going to his room, he pulled out his school supplies and sat on the bed, attempting to finish his math homework as a distraction. It was a good thing that if he wasn't doing well in class, he wasn't going to be beaten. But, then how would he be punished for getting bad grades? Would anyone even care anymore, though? He sighed when the tip of his pencil broke. He didn't have another one. He had pens, but he didn't like using them for anything he might need to erase.

He could ask Marco or Izo, or just try to find one laying around the place. But it was too big, and he didn't want to look nosey by going through drawers and closets. Ace deliberated for a good twenty minutes, before he left the room. He might run into someone else, but at least it would be quick.

The first person he saw was a guy with a curly mustache. He was much older than Thatch, Izo, Marco, Haruta and Ace. Ace wondered what kind of situation this older man had gone through. Or maybe he was one of those who had decided to stay after they were able to get back on their feet emotionally. Ace assumed that everyone here had some sort of emotional time. Thatch especially. Ace hadn't noticed Marco or Izo seeming like they'd been through something traumatic, but they could just be faking. Ace had been faking a lot of things for a long time, too, after all.

"Excuse me," Ace said uncertainty. The mustache man turned around and looked down at Ace, since he was much taller than the younger man. "Do you have a pencil or pencil sharpener?"

"Sure, I'll be right back. And my name is Vista. It's nice to meet you," Vista said kindly. Ace stuttered out a polite reply of, "You, too." He stood awkwardly in the hall, but Vista didn't take too long, and came back with a mechanical pencil. "Thanks," Ace said, and hurried back to his room.

He finished all of his homework, and then went on his computer to look at his grades. Part of him was thinking it would be better if he had to retake the class. Then he would have another semester of living if he _did_ want to eventually commit suicide. But, that was the small, rational voice in the back of his head that only came out sometimes now.

But, he wasn't failing the class. His grade was a mid B, even with the test he scored badly on. Ace stayed in the room for a while, getting hungry around lunch time. He still didn't want to leave and go down to eat with everybody.

At 12:30, there was a rap on his door. He wished again for the peephole, but there was no one in the hall. He looked down and saw a couple crustless peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cut diagonally. There was also a bottle of orange juice next to it. Ace momentarily thought to not eat it, let someone else come and get it, but he didn't want to be rude and _was_ hungry.

Looking both ways down the hall, he saw no one and took the plate and bottle inside, closing his door quietly. Whoever knocked on the door must have bolted to not be seen. It reminded Ace of when postmen would bang on your door to deliver a package, and by the time you opened the door, they were driving away.

He ate the food slowly, wondering when the last time he'd had such a decorated pb&j sandwich was. The juice had pulp in it, which Ace liked. Once he was done, he was unsure of where to put them. He didn't want to just leave it in front of the door. They weren't his maids to bring and clean up his food. If they brought it to him, he wanted to at least bring it back.

The freckled youth walked to the kitchen, hurrying past the entrance into the dining room. He noticed, in the second he looked to the side, that there were a lot of people missing. Bringing his plate to the counter, he hurried away with a thank you to Thatch, who was doing the dishes. Ace did wonder why he didn't use the dishwasher, but of course didn't ask. He was already back upstairs and heading to his room.

The day Ace had to go back to school was awkward. He was still not supposed to ride his bike, so he left before anyone woke up, at 5:30 AM to walk there. His class was at 8:00. It was his only class for the day. It was health. Luckily, there was never homework and the course load was easy as hell.

Ace sometimes wondered how the teacher didn't notice the weight he lost, the circles under his eyes, the injuries. Surely he would recognize the signs of extreme stress? Maybe he didn't care. Anyways, on his way down the street, in the dark, a car came driving up after him. He didn't pay attention to it before it pulled up next to him. He looked to the side to see Izo looking at him disapprovingly. Ace bristled at the look. What did he do wrong, he was minding his own business.

The driver rolled down the window. "What are you doing, Ace?" Izo asked.

"Going to school," Ace said, not sounding so friendly.

"School is four miles away, and it's still dark outside. And you're injured. You should have asked for someone to drive you," Izo responded. "Please get in the car." Ace glared at him.

"I'm fine. I always walk or ride my bike to school," he said, and started walking again. The car went along with him, Izo barely pressing on the gas.

"Please let me drive you. We don't have to talk if you don't want to, but we want you to be safe," Izo said earnestly. Ace didn't reply, he just kept walking defiantly. "Ace, please let me help you. Once you're better and you can ride your bike again, I won't ask to drive you if you don't want."

Ace almost scoffed at the concept of someone being concerned for his safety. But Izo looked sincere, and worried. Ace didn't understand why, all he had done was given him makeup. That wasn't exactly a budding friendship.

"Please," the man said one last time. Ace growled and yanked open the backseat door and slammed it shut. He glared out the window in the back, not happy with this one bit. Izo didn't say anything, and didn't keep glancing at him in the mirror, which Ace was glad of. Still angry and irritated, but at least there was no pressure to interact.

When he got there, he had over two hours to kill, and slammed the door shut, not saying anything. Not even a thanks, before storming off to the cafe. The sun was barely rising now. He wouldn't have been in the dark long. Izo drove away after that, so Ace assumed he didn't have class.

He was in a bad mood for most of the day after that. Not a depressed and sulky mood, but irritation and anger. He was going to take as long as he wanted to get home. His class got out at 9:15, but he'd find something to do for the rest of the day. The college was close to the center of the city, so he was able to walk downtown. He didn't have any money, but just looking around was a good distraction.

Purposely avoiding main street, where he met Deuce so long ago on a joint field trip to the park between both of their elementary schools, he walked down the less busy ones. It was still early and many of the stores were not open yet. He wished he could go get a Starbucks. He literally had no money in his pockets or wallet.

Eventually, Ace went to the public library and read some random books he was bored of by page five. When it was 4:30, he decided he'd walk back now. The sun wouldn't be setting for another two hours. If he walked quickly, he'd be fine.

Since no one had his phone number, no one called. Well, Newgate might have the number since it was his establishment Ace was staying at for the time being, but no one called. He wasn't tired from walking back to the estate right before the sun set. At about dinner time. At the smell of something that should smell yummy, he remembered he hadn't even eaten anything today.

Again, he didn't go to dinner with everyone, snuck into the kitchen to find another sticky note about leftovers being in the fridge for him. It didn't say " _if_ you don't eat with us", because there was no way he was going to willingly eat with them on the third day. He quietly opened the fridge to find some sort of stew. It had the ingredients listed since no one knew if Ace was allergic to anything.

He took the bowl to the hallway where the tile was, and sat down in an alcove to eat on the floor. His knees were to his chest as he ate the strew with a bored look. It tasted very good, but there was no one there to fake emotion in front of. Someone did pass by him, but didn't see him. He was between a big china cabinet and a bookshelf. It was a good place to hide in plain sight.

They had to know he was back, his boots were at the front door. For some reason, they left the front door unlocked all day, so Ace got in just fine, not having to bother anyone. Like he had this morning. Should he have asked? Then Izo wouldn't have had to leave at 5:30 to find him. But, he didn't _have_ to do that. Ace didn't ask or want him to.

Having Izo go after him just made him feel worse. Like he was trapped here. He's an adult, not some kid that has a curfew! He'd basically lived by himself for his whole life. Roger didn't take care of him, Ace usually did the other way around. But, this wasn't supposed to be a prison. Everyone seemed happy here. At least, as happy as they can be. They had cars. They could leave whenever they wanted, but Ace can't? Is it because he's new, or they think he's weak and unable to do anything by himself? Maybe that's what they think because he never does anything himself.

After all, they'd been leaving his food for him, leaving notes and nice things. Ace hadn't done a thing himself here besides reorganizing a few hundred books. He brought the bowl back to the kitchen and put it in the dishwasher. He wasn't going to just leave it there for someone else to clean up.

When Ace headed up to his room, Izo was waiting for him at the door. Not inside, but waiting right outside the bedroom door, with the messy "ACE" written on the whiteboard. Ace looked at him a little coldly. "Excuse me," he mumbled, wanting to get inside his only safe space anymore.

Izo looked hurt, but the look vanished before Ace could beat himself up for it. "I'm sorry I was really demanding this morning. You're an adult, you get to leave when you want. I was just worried that something would happen. I know everything is really fresh right now. I was not in good shape when I came here, and I guess I was projecting onto you. I'm sorry for infringing on your rights as an adult. And for upsetting you." Ace didn't say anything, not knowing what he should say.

"I'm fine," he said simply. It was clear to both of them that he wasn't fine, but Izo let Ace act tough. "I can get to and from school by myself. I've lived by myself for my whole life. I can take care of myself. No one has to cook my food or clean for me. I can do that stuff myself."

"We don't do that because we think you're incompetent. We do it out of kindness and empathy. No one knows what you went through, but all of us want you to feel better. You seem like a really good person, Ace," Izo said kindly. It didn't feel good to hear. Not at all. Because Ace wasn't a good person. He got his dad in prison because he wasn't brave enough to self-harm. He wasn't a good person for wishing misery upon his friend. It was wrong. Ace didn't thank or refute Izo's words, just gave a single nod.

"Well, goodnight," Izo said, maybe not knowing he'd said something harmful. It would be best for Ace if no one interacted with him. It was uncomfortable being surrounded by people who wanted to do things for him. He was twenty two, he could take care of himself. He didn't even want to be here.

"Night," Ace mumbled, and closed the door in Izo's face, who still looked upset. He locked the door once it was closed, and went to his bed, throwing the backpack he was still carrying down on the comforter. The room was a mess still, so at least no one went inside. He wondered how many people had lived in this room after coming from a mess like he was.

He had trouble sleeping again, and had the first in detail nightmare since what had happened. Sure, he had bad dreams, but none were considered nightmares to him.

_Ace was standing at a cemetary, looking down at the gravestone in front of him. "Gol D. Ace'' it read. There were no flowers or any loving message. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a long time, and weeds were sprouting out of where his body was supposed to lay. It was like he was a guest in his own dream._

_A few dream moments passed, a paper bag blown onto the grave. It wasn't a headstone. Just a plaque with his name and how old he was. The numbers weren't readable, so Ace didn't know how old he was supposed to have been when he died._

_He heard footsteps, the crunching of dry leaves, and saw Deuce standing in front of his grave. Ace moved out of the way, watching Deuce react to his gravestone. He was glaring at it hatefully. It stung Ace to see that, but what did he expect? Ace was annoying, of course Deuce would still hate him, even after death._

" _You asshole. You killed yourself just to make me miserable didn't you?" the young man asked with a scoff. Ace wanted to refute him, tell him it wasn't just his fault. Everything had culminated into a living nightmare that Ace wasn't strong enough to carry on his own. But, Deuce didn't hear him when he said such things._

_Ace screamed in horror when Deuce pulled out a knife and slit his own throat, blood spraying onto Ace's grave. It splattered across his grave like paint, seeping into the embedded name until it was completely red. A bloody, "Gol D. Ace"._

" _Even in death, you're a terrible friend," the blue haired man said, and the light left his eyes. His bloody body seeped into the ground, to Ace. To make sure even his corpse knew that he had blood on his hands._

Ace woke up and ran to the bathroom to vomit into the sink. He didn't even make it to the toilet. Tears burned his cheeks, and for a moment he thought it was blood and slapped the liquid away, hurting his bruise and cut. When he looked in the mirror, he saw blood on his face. Like it wasn't his own, but someone else's had splattered across his face. Like he'd killed someone and their blood was painted across their killer's face. Ace didn't hesitate to slam his fist into the mirror, breaking it into pieces and skinning up his knuckles. The blood left his face, only replaced with tears, which were not partly due to pain.

Ace came back to himself, and did his best to make the vomit go into the drain, scrubbing the basin with a bar of soap. The mirror was unfixable. It was decimated, and shards of the mirror were embedded into Ace's fist. Great, more injuries. Again, the injuries were his fault. He damaged this place's property, and he didn't have any money to fix it. Maybe they'd kick him out.

Not wanting to trouble anyone, he wrapped his bleeding hand in a towel and left his room quickly, hoping no one heard the whole thing. He may have made a lot of noise, he didn't know how thick the walls were here. But, at least he wasn't so loud that it woke everyone in their bedrooms.

Ace didn't know what time it was, hadn't looked at the clock, but knew he should probably call 911. It was bleeding a lot. Yeah, there was an infirmary here, but he didn't exactly know how to handle his own injury. And this was the hand that wasn't sprained. He'd made both of his hands useless. He wanted to hit his forehead at his stupidity and inability to look ahead of his actions. Which was why he was stuck here either way.

He was on his way outside, getting his jacket on and boots tied with his non-bleeding hand when someone opened the door from the outside. It was Marco. He looked surprised to see Ace there, and glanced at Ace's hand, which was wrapped in a bloody towel. It looked bad.

"Ace, what happened?" Marco asked in shock.

"I have to go to the doctor, it's no big deal," Ace replied awkwardly. "I'm gonna call 911." He shook his phone in his other hand, which wasn't too comfortable, but the sprained wrist was less useless than the bloody mess.

"I'm training to be a doctor. I could try," Marco offered. Ace just stared at him and then looked at the hand.

"I'd rather have a professional." Marco nodded, and Ace saw his cheeks flush in embarrassment. Marco then offered to drive Ace to the hospital, and for some reason, Ace said yes. Marco hurried him to the curb, where he unlocked his truck. Ace climbed inside, sitting on a stack of paper that Marco hurriedly shoved onto the floor so he could sit.

They were quiet for most of the ride, with Ace only wincing in pain. He hadn't taken out some of the glass, not wanting to make it worse. "Can I ask what happened?" Marco asked when they parked at the emergency room. He had been nice enough to not pester Ace about it, but he didn't want to tell Marco he punched a freaking mirror. But, they'd all find out eventually.

"I punched the mirror," he replied awkwardly. Marco was surprised, but didn't say anything.

"I'll wait to bring you back. Good luck," the blonde said, trying to mask his curiosity of how bad Ace's hand was. The younger man didn't reply, just walked to get himself seen. He assumed Marco would call Newgate and tell him what had happened. Ace didn't know where the money to pay for this would come from. He had no money, and hadn't settled on anything regarding inheritance. Roger wasn't dead, and would leave prison some day. So it wasn't like Ace was going to get all his stuff and remaining money.

Ace explained what had happened to the front desk, and was glad when she didn't make any sort of show that Ace was crazy or had done something stupid. Maybe a lot of people punched glass. He wouldn't know.

When he got the wound checked, it looked a lot worse than it was. He had to have stitches between his fingers, which was painful and would be for a while. There were also gashes across the top of his hand. And he was told that he was very lucky with how the cuts were placed. They didn't ask for an explanation. Ace didn't have one. Hallucinating wouldn't be a good thing to say.

When Ace was done, his hand was wrapped in bandages. He had to be careful with it, but it wasn't completely useless now. Marco was waiting outside, smoking a cigarette. Ace thought it was ironic that he was training to be a medic but smoked outside of a hospital. "I'm back," Ace said in a flat voice, embarrassed. He should have just called 911 to take him.

Marco looked down at the bandaged hand. "It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," Ace added. Marco nodded and they got into the car, the driver putting out the cigarette against a stone wall and then into the trash compartment in the car. Ace had never noticed Marco smelling like smoke in class, so that was nice. And his car didn't smell bad either.

Even though Ace didn't want to admit what he did, since it was stupid and crazy, he had damaged the property, and he felt guilty about it. And someone would have to clean up the bloody mess in the bathroom. At least the vomit was gone now, Ace had made sure it was cleaned away.

"...My bathroom will need a new mirror. Well, don't _need_ one, but that mirror is broken, so…" he trailed off awkwardly. Marco had a poker face for the drive, something Ace didn't like.

"You punched the mirror in the bathroom?" Marco finally asked. When Ace looked ashamed, Marco said, "I kicked a window out barefoot once. I couldn't put pressure on my foot for six weeks. Punching a mirror isn't so bad. There are worse things you could do. And don't worry about the cost of a mirror, we have some spare ones." When Ace looked confused, Marco said, "You think you're the only one with problems in a place like this? Lots of us have punched out a mirror. Sometimes you just don't want to see the person you are, so you take it out on the mirror. Instant gratification plus pain, right?"

Ace didn't know what to say, so he nodded. "I'll clean the mess up," he finally said once they pulled into the back lot. No one was waiting up for them, which made it less uncomfortable.

"Let me get you some pain pills. I'll be right back," Marco said after hanging his coat up and slipping off his shoes. Ace did the same, and waited in the entrance for Marco to come back. He had a bottle of ibuprofen. They walked up to Ace's room. No one was up, or at least made sure it didn't seem like they were awake.

Marco didn't comment on the state of Ace's room. Clothes and personal belongings were flung everywhere. Ace didn't apologize for it either, since it was his space and Marco wasn't supposed to see it in the first place. He was going to close the door on Marco, before his classmate said, "If you wanna rant, I'm here. You don't have to get all personal or intimate. If you're mad, then you can just rant." Ace realized that he had the wrong idea. Ace didn't punch the mirror this time because he was mad. He saw his face all bloody, and he'd not wanted to see it and just punched.

"I didn't punch the mirror because I was mad. I thought I saw something," Ace mumbled lamely. Before Marco could reply, Ace shut and locked the door. He waited silently until he heard Marco's footsteps fade away. The freckled men couldn't just let his bloody bathroom sink stay that way. He used his sprained hand to wipe the counter and mirror off, picking up the pieces and dumping them into the bath, running the water so the blood came off and spiraled down the drain.

Going to bed was easy, but Ace really wished he didn't have school in the morning. He set his alarm like usual, got his outfit ready for tomorrow, and then crashed. It was 3 AM by then. He wondered why Marco had taken him since he had school in the morning too. Ace wondered if he was lying when he said he was training to be a doctor. At the beginning of the semester, Ace remembered Marco saying he wanted to be a mathematician. Maybe something changed in the last couple months.


	4. A New Friend?

**saiii: Thank you! I'm sorry it's relatable, it's a very sad situation. :(**

**Sixcupsofcoffeetogo: Ace would probably get offended if you hugged him, and then he would beat himself up over it. So, no hugs yet!**

* * *

**I posted another Marco x Ace fanfiction a couple days ago. Go check it out! Enjoy~**

* * *

In the morning, no one commented on his bandaged hand. Since class started a little later than the day before, Ace was able to walk to school without Mama Izo telling him to stay out of the dark. It still irritated him. That he was twenty two but since he'd gotten here had been treated like a kid.

Maybe he was a kid. He was stupid and immature, like a kid would be. Maybe all of his room mates thought he was younger or something. His freckles made him look younger and weaker, maybe they thought he was. But still, he wouldn't be there if he was underage.

He made it to school when Marco and Izo showed up, having left the house a lot later than Ace. They both saw Ace and gave him a smile. The black haired student didn't give them one back, just walked the long way to the class he shared with Marco. When he made it inside, he didn't particularly want to sit next to Marco, but they were far into the semester and everyone had gotten used to sitting in their claimed seats.

Ace knew he was being rude sometimes with these people, but they made him uncomfortable. Not in a way that he felt unsafe. Just uncomfortable with the kindness, smiles, care. He didn't know them, why did they care about him at all? He was a waste of space, and would annoy them eventually.

Shaking the thoughts away, Ace got out his notes and started taking them on what was on the board at the front of the class. Ace and Marco sat near the front to see better and be able to ask the teacher more questions when she was at the desk. Marco was a much faster writer than Ace was, and his hand hurt, too.

Once the lecture was over and they were working on their homework in class, Marco offered to let Ace copy his notes and go slower when he was writing so he could keep up and process what was being said at the same time. Ace didn't reply for a few moments before he said, "That's nice of you, but I don't need it." Marco couldn't help but glance at Ace's notebook, the handwriting almost illegible, even to the one who wrote it.

"Alright. If you change your mind, you can ask anytime," Marco replied easily. Ace nodded in thanks for him dropping the subject. After class, Ace left the room, Marco saying a goodbye to him. Ace hadn't noticed Marco wrote his phone number on a piece of paper and stuck it inside Ace's notebook when he wasn't looking for a second.

When Ace got to his programming class, there was a note on the door that said class was canceled. He sighed, hating when teachers didn't use the college email to tell the students ahead of time. He turned back around and made his way to the library, not ready to go back to the house yet.

He did get hungry after lunch time and went to the campus help center to get some free food. He had usually avoided it at all costs, thinking someone would know he was poor and his outside life was a lie. Maybe they'd pry if they knew that Ace's life wasn't picture perfect. But now, his old life was over. There was no need to keep up the facade.

He got a box of cereal and some apples, going outside to down the entire box of knock off Cheerios and the apples in record time. It made him satisfied and full, which was nice. Since he had his computer with him for programming class, he could hook up to the campus wifi and go on the internet to do various things.

Not really thinking it through, Ace visited his Facebook page. He hadn't been on Facebook in a long time except on messenger. He didn't have any notifications, since he had barely any friends. He knew it wasn't a good idea, but he visited Deuce's page anyway. Only to find he was no longer friends with him. He had unfriended Ace. It hurt more than Ace would like to think. It was showing that they really were over. Ace almost slammed his fist down on the table, but stopped himself before he did. He didn't need to make his injuries even worse.

He logged out and shut his laptop, putting his face in his non-cut up hand, breathing through his nose to try and calm down. He didn't want to cry at school. He wanted to be over this! Be strong enough to push that traitor out of his head. He was there so often, his voice echoing in his head. Even things he hadn't said were in his head, spoken with his voice.

The words berated him for being who he was. _Annoying, worthless, stupid, clingy, a nuisance, a bother, useless… unwanted._ Those words were whispered in his head in Deuce's voice. He hated it. He wanted to move on. But he also wanted Deuce to at least care enough to ask if his old friend was enough.

And Ace hated to say it, but if Deuce apologized, he would probably go running back to him, no matter how much he had hurt him. What his break up had done. Had derailed Ace's life, broken him to pieces that he knew he couldn't pick up alone. But he didn't want anyone else's help.

But he needed it. He just didn't know how or who to ask.

When he got back to his temporary home, sulking the whole walk there, lost in thoughts, Marco was already back since his truck was there. It was pretty beat up. Like a cliche truck in some book would be. But, it was clean. Besides the papers on the inside that Ace had no idea what they were.

He walked inside, the front door unlocked even though Ace was given a key yesterday evening, taped to his whiteboard so he saw it when he went to his room. He walked into the house, putting his jacket on the hook and taking his boots off to join the dozens of other shoes, haphazardly thrown about. When he walked through the hall, he heard very little voices. People must be at work or something.

When Ace walked past one of the large windows, he saw that there were two people outside. One was Haruta, the smallest person Ace had seen so far. Maybe the smallest there was here. The other was a woman with glasses and a clip board with a pen. Ace assumed it was counseling. He couldn't hear anything, and didn't much want to.

After the counselor said something, Haurta nodded and smiled. What would make him happy about talking about your problems with someone else? Though, he may have known this counselor for a while. He turned back away and walked down the hall, going to put his backpack in his room. When he got to his door, he saw there was a mirror there, with screws and a screwdriver.

Part of him was grateful that they wouldn't do it themselves, but how was Ace supposed to do this? He couldnt put much strain on his cut up hand, but he also couldn't do anything with his sprained wrist that wouldn't hurt very bad.

He opened the door and pushed the mirror inside, picking up the other supplies. He might ask for help sometime later. Walking to the trash can, Ace picked up the paper about counseling. He hadn't really read it before, but he tried reading it now. It was hard, as it was torn up. He didn't want to see a counselor, but things were confidential with them, right? She wouldn't tell anyone else about Ace's problems?

There was a knock on the door, and Ace tossed the pamphlet back in the trash can. "It's Marco," the visitor said. Ace sighed, but opened the door. "I thought you would need some help putting the mirror up. You don't have two working hands."

"Okay," Ace mumbled. Marco saw the mirror and tools, and carried it to the bathroom. Ace was glad he cleaned up all the blood. The mirror shards were still in the bathtub. Marco didn't comment on how hard Ace must have punched it considering how many shards there were. He easily hung the mirror up and screwed it into place. They were both quiet, though the silence wasn't too uncomfortable. They were both surprised when Ace asked a question out of the blue.

"Do you go to counseling?" he asked.

"Yeah, I do. We all do. Even us who are back on our feet, so to say. Only Vista and Rayuko agreed at the beginning to see a counselor. The rest thirty some people refused. Most of them have left, having picked themselves back up, but those who had stayed still see Whiskey or Tami."

"Does it help?"

"Very much." Ace looked down, not knowing what else to say. But he had one other question, and Marco could tell, which was why he hadn't left the room yet, since the mirror was in place. Instead of pressuring Ace, he took the bathroom garbage can and put the mirror fragments inside of it, since they would cut through a trash bag if used.

"It's confidential, right? No one tells anyone else about stuff, right?" Marco nodded.

"Most things, no one tells anyone else. There are only some circumstances to whether one of the counselors would tell Pops or the hospital. Like if you were planning to kill yourself. I mean, a lot of us, that I know of, have contemplated suicide some time or another, but we weren't going to act on it. If you said, 'I feel like I should die', it would be different than 'I have a gun in my room and I'm going to use it'. Y'know what I mean?" Marco explained. Ace nodded. He was safe then. He didn't have a plan on _how_ to do it, just that he might do it in a couple months. It wasn't set in stone. Not yet.

"Do you need help changing your bandages?" Marco asked, changing the subject and looking at Ace's cut up hand. Ace shook his head, though he knew it would be easier to have someone help him.

"Did you tell Newgate? About last night?"

"Yeah, I did. He was concerned, but he's pretty used to some of us needing to go to the doctor's after breaking something. I remember Squardo, someone who used to be here, kicked the china cabinet and broke his toe. It didn't help that the whole thing fell on him, but he was ultimately okay," Marco explained lightly. "Pops cares about everyone, but he knows that you don't want to be babied. He's good at reading people."

Ace looked surprised. "Pops?" he asked. didn't that mean dad or something? Marco nodded. "Do you all call him that?"

"By the end, most call him Pops eventually." Ace asked why. "Because he calls us sons. When we are comfortable with it, that is." Ace had never had a dad that wasn't an abusive asshole. He stopped himself before asking what kind of punishment he dealt out. It might be an indicator of where Ace got his injuries.

"Okay," he said, not sure of what to say.

"Well, I'll leave you to it. If you need some of my notes, feel free to ask," Marco said in a cheerful voice.

"Okay," Ace replied again. Marco left his room and closed the door gently. Ace went and sat on the bed, processing what Marco had said. He felt bad for thinking he was the only one with problems. Marco and some others had talked about how everyone had something difficult happen to them, and that's why they were here in the first place. But he didn't believe it, since most of them here seemed pretty happy.

He glanced back at the trashcan and what was in it, before he laid down to take a nap. He had no bad dreams.

That night, Ace found Newgate before he went to bed, and when no one else was around. "Hello, Ace. What can I do for you?"

Ace fidgeted, before speaking. "I… I'll try the counseling." He mumbled it, but the man heard it, and smiled.

"That's great. I think Tami would be best for you. She's very nice and soothing. Would you like to try for this weekend? When you don't have school work?" Ace nodded. "How are your injuries healing up?"

"Okay."

"The bruises look much more faded. The stitches are dissolvable, right?" Ace nodded. He wanted to leave now, and Newgate seemed to have sensed that. "Well, I hope they all heal up soon. And you are not in trouble for the mirror. It happens to the best of us. Goodnight, Ace."

"Night," Ace muttered, before turning around and hurrying away.

After three more stressful days of school, as he grew more and more worried about his choice of trying to talk to someone. A stranger. But Marco said it was confidential, and Ace would just not mention the suicide part. And Marco said everyone went to counseling, so it couldn't be that bad, right? He hoped not.

On Saturday afternoon, he was approached in the library, where he was attempting to do homework even though he was nervous and sweaty, not knowing what time the appointment would be. It was Marco, who seemed to be the one to deliver messages since the others made Ace more uncomfortable. Well, except for Thatch, who always seemed depressed, and hadn't really talked to Ace much except that day where he said some really nice things to him that had made him tear up.

"Tami is here and ready. Where do you want to talk with her?"

"Um… we can do outside," he offered halfheartedly. Marco smiled at him.

"No one is forcing you to do this. If you're having second thoughts, no one will be angry if you back out. Honestly, you decided to give it a chance much earlier than anyone else has. Took me three months to agree to it," Marco explained.

"No… no, I'll do it," Ace stuttered. He closed his computer and got up to follow Marco outside to the gazebo with a swinging chair and bench. Tami, not the one who had been with Haruta, was sitting on the bench, while Ace took the swinging chair.

"Hello, Ace, my name is Tami. It's nice to meet you," the counselor said kindly. Ace just nodded in response. He was so nervous, and Tami could tell. "For the first session, there is no rush. We don't need to talk about anything serious unless you want to. Do you want to?" Ace shook his head, and Tami smiled in understanding. "Then why don't you tell me about yourself? Your hobbies and interests."

Ace hadn't spoken much to anyone for long periods of time in a while. Besides recounting everything that had happened to the cops back in the hospital. "I like to read." Tami waited for him to say more, knowing he was trying to come up with truthful answers. "I used to write stories, but I don't do that anymore. My best frie-," he paused, automatically going to talk about Deuce. He closed his mouth for a full minute, but Tami was patient.

"I'm majoring in computer science. I'll graduate after this semester," he finally said. "I don't know what else to say," the awkward man said honestly. This was hard, and they weren't even talking about anything serious. He couldn't do this, and started looking frantically at the doorway to leave the gazebo.

"Why don't we end here. I usually have very short sessions in the beginning. Just getting my patients to feel comfortable talking with me about trivial things, before they are ever comfortable with the difficult topics. We can have another meeting next Saturday if you want." Ace couldn't tell if she was telling the truth or just noticed he started to panic.

"Okay," Ace said, and got up, hurrying inside, humiliated. He ran into Haruta in the family room Ace was walking through. He was glad Haruta didn't try to start a conversation, just looked up with a smile before returning to his book, sitting on the couch with his legs to his chest. Ace pretended not to see him, not wanting to risk having a conversation. He headed back to the library to get his things or stay down there if no one else was present. He found Thatch in there, looking at the cookbook section of the library. Ace stood at the base of the stairs, not knowing whether he should announce his presence, not startling the man.

But, he heard Ace come down the stairs. He looked up, looking like he didn't sleep too well. He was the only one Ace had met who seemed just as depressed as he was. He wondered how long Thatch had been here. Was he newer, like Ace was? Were they both the biggest messes here?

"Hey, Ace," Thatch said with a tired smile.

"Hi…"

"By the way, thank you for reorganizing the books. You didn't have to do it, but I know things like that are soothing. Having a purpose that keeps you distracted. That's part of why I do much of the cooking. Other than that it's enjoyable." Ace wasn't expecting him to talk to him. He also didn't expect Thatch to say, "We're both the newest here. It's uncomfortable, isn't it? Having all these strangers try to cheer you up when it just makes you more uncomfortable."

Ace nodded in agreement.

"At least no one forces you to talk to them, right?" Ace nodded again, not sure what to say, but for once not being bothered by someone here talking to him. He was right, Thatch was newer, just like he was. Meaning he wasn't part of the permanent family. At least not yet. Maybe someday.

"Izo is pretty nice. He gave me some makeup, too, when I first got here. I think he might do that for everyone, honestly. To cover up the bags under my eyes. I don't care much about it now, though. But, I felt yours was a lot worse. All those injuries. I won't ask what happened, it's none of my or anyone else's business. But, if you ever want to talk to someone who _isn't_ seeming to always be in a good mood, I'm always open." Ace thanked him quietly. Thatch seemed to know how Ace felt more than everyone else.

He guessed that the others had been here awhile and maybe didn't remember how they felt at the beginning. Marco talked about things like this before, but sometimes he was too persistent and it made Ace uncomfortable. He couldn't deny that Marco was nice, but maybe too pushy sometimes, even though Ace knew he purposely tried not to be. He chalked it up to the man just being a social person, like Ace had never been.

When Thatch started to leave, carrying two cookbooks, Ace suddenly said, "If… you wanna talk about your stuff, I'll listen. I'm not too good with the talking part, but I'm a good listener." Thatch gave him a warm smile, thanking him.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, and then walked up the stairs and out of the library. Ace smiled sadly. He felt bad for Thatch, but it was also nice not being the only one to feel that way. For the first time since he lost Deuce, Ace thought he may have found another friend. Even if they were only linked by their mutual depression.

It was only two days later, when Ace got home from school, that Thatch took him up on the offer to talk. They were both in the library, hatch closed and locked. Ace fiddled with a piece of his jacket while Thatch tried to find the courage to talk about whatever he wanted to talk about to Ace. He wouldn't know what to say, but he was telling the truth when he said he was a good listener.

After about ten minutes, Thatch began. "Will you promise not to tell anyone else?" Ace nodded, and said he promised. "I came here because my house caught on fire. Everything burned down, all my money, photos, memories, even the safe was destroyed by the end. I lost everything, and was homeless. And familyless. My wife and daughter didn't make it out alive. I got badly burned, and had to stay in the hospital. While I was there, healing, someone stole my credit cards and spent every last penny I had.

"They sent me here because I had nowhere to go, and they thought being here would help with the trauma and grief, you know? I don't have anything, any money or belongings. I don't even have photos of my wife and child.

"Everyone else in my family is gone, as well. And my wife's family blamed me for not saving her and their granddaughter, so they disowned me when I needed them most. I didn't want to impose on them, so I accepted it. Maybe I shouldn't have. Should have fought. But ultimately it was my fault they died.

"I didn't start the fire, but I was unable to get them out. So, I'm here now, and almost wish I wasn't. Being around so many people trying to be friends with me is hard. I've been here two months already and have barely improved.

"I should try the counseling, but I don't want to. I don't want my past and state of mind picked apart by a physcologist. I know they're good for some people, but I just can't see myself doing it. You're very brave, to go so soon after coming here. I barely know you, but I'm more comfortable talking to you than someone whose job it is to talk.

"I can tell you have a lot of demons haunting you, too. I know you can sympathize with my sadness. I mean, I'm not glad you're hurting, but I'm glad I'm not alone. Sorry if that sounds selfish. It's messed up to wish someone else sadness to make myself feel better. Sorry," Thatch finished. Ace hadn't interrupted, but by the end, felt stupid for his problems when Thatch had it so much worse.

"Your problems are a lot worse than mine," Ace replied. "But, thanks for telling me. I know what you mean, about wanting others to feel bad to make me feel better. It is messed up." They were both quiet for a minute, before Ace said, "Will you… listen to my problems? And not tell anyone else?"

"Promise," Thatch said emphatically. Ace nodded and swallowed, having never told anyone the whole situation aloud.

"My dad beat me since I was a child. I always had bruises that I'd cover up with make up. He hit me for little things a lot. Like burning the food I had to cook for him. Or dropping something, or even showing emotion. But, I had this wonderful best friend for years, who was always there for me. He was my pillar, you know? He held me up when I was breaking. Glued me back together when I was in pieces. He was my whole world.

"Apparently, he didn't like that. He ignored me for weeks, and then he messaged me, saying he wanted to go to the movies. I went, he didn't show up, and I got home and got punched in the eye. I thought he wouldn't even care if he saw me. Things were really bad while he ignored me. I felt like he betrayed me.

"He even said 'I know you have problems at home', like it was nothing big. I was crushed. I hurt so much, you know? I wanted to feel anything else but the sadness. Anything else, but I was too chicken to self-harm…

"So, I provoked my dad to beat the crap out of me. I thought I would get a break at school and him if I was so injured I went to the hospital. I wished he hurt me worse so I stayed longer. I was really badly hurt. I didn't expect or think ahead that the police would come. It didn't even cross my mind.

"So I had to tell them the truth, you know? It incriminated my dad and he'd gonna go to jail. I don't have any money. Inheritance is non-existent, and I lost my home. It's all my fault. Cause I couldn't just cut myself, I had to involve other people. I keep thinking someone here is gonna beat me for messing up. Like when I punched the mirror after having a nightmare," Ace finished, his face crumpled in misery, humiliated and ashamed. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything, but he couldn't take it all back now that it was out there.

He didn't make eye contact with Thatch. "My problems are not worse than yours, Ace. Just different. I lived in a loving home when I was a child, and found a loving wife and kid. It was the dream life, but ended tragically. You have never had anyone to love you, and the one you thought you had turned out to be a selfish asshole.

"Don't minimize your own pain because someone has something that seems more severe." Ace nodded, and felt better after at least saying it out loud. It was like he finally acknowledged everything that had happened. He knew things would not be okay for awhile. He would have a lot of issues that would last a long time. But, he accepted that. Finally.

They were both quiet again, Ace feeling better and thinking maybe Thatch felt better, too. He had a sad smile on his face. Ace wasn't smiling, he didn't do it often anymore. Well, he didn't smile for _real._ Sometimes he had faked them to make people think he was fine. He'd fake laugh if someone asked how he got injured _this time?_ Ace would say something about a baseball or falling while skateboarding. And people had believed him.

Now, the second person Ace willingly told his problems to, someone knew. Knew the truth of what his childhood was like. Eventually, both left the room, Thatch to go make them some sweets. Ace accompanied him, not wanting to be alone yet.

He was unsure of whether Thatch wanted to be alone, and hesitantly asked, "D-Do you need help? Not if you don't want to, I don't mean to impose." Thatch just smiled.

"It's everyone's kitchen, and having some help would be nice," the man replied. Ace nodded and stood up to follow Thatch to the kitchen. It wasn't fun. Ace was not good at cooking. He was embarrassed after dropping an egg while trying to make brownies. His face turned bright red and he pursed his lips together.

"It's fine, Ace. I doubt you've ever even made brownies before." But Ace was usually a good cook. He had to be, to make dinner and not risk being hit for messing it up. Ace didn't respond, shutting down. "Why don't you go and check if the oven is ready?" Ace didn't want to do it anymore. He felt like an idiot and nuisance. Just because Thatch was nice to him didn't mean he actually liked or wanted to be around him.

But, Ace didn't want to argue, and checked the oven. It was ready. Ace said so, but didn't know how to say he wanted to leave. He stood a little awkwardly, looking at the floor with a miserable look. "If you want to stop, I'll tell you when they're ready." Ace didn't say anything or make eye contact, just nodded sharply and fled the room.

He was so embarrassed. Thatch probably didn't want to be his friend after that. Ace ruined things before anything even came of it. What if Thatch thinks he's stupid so he tells everyone about what Ace said? Telling him wasn't strictly confidential.

But then he felt bad for doubting Thatch, even if he probably thought Ace was dumb. He didn't seem like the kind of guy to be needlessly mean and tell everyone all of Ace's important secrets. He went to his room to change his bandages since he'd gotten egg on them. It was difficult, but he didn't want help. His wrist was feeling a little better, which was nice. His bruises were all almost completely gone and his more shallow cuts were in the last stages of being scabs.

All that was left were the deeper cuts and then it was like everything never happened. He didn't know how to feel about that.

An hour later, Thatch knocked on the bedroom door, a plate of warm, moist brownies were in front of him. Ace was still feeling down about the whole egg mishap. It wouldn't be that big of a deal for anyone else, but for him, it plagued his thoughts for a while. "They're done. Do you want any? We can save them for later if you want." Ace appreciated Thatch's wording, giving him an out, but it was embarrassing to have to have that even happen. He should be able to at least laugh it off an hour later. Apologize like a normal person would.

But, they smelled really good, so he took one. Eating it slowly, he thought it was delicious. It didn't show on his face, so he let Thatch know they were wonderful. He ate the other five on the plate. "I'm glad you liked them. I've made two batches so we can share with the others," he said, with a smile though the sadness was still in his voice.

"Okay," Ace responded, not sure what to say. Thatch didn't take it personally, thankfully, and seemed to recognize Ace's discomfort.

"Well, I'll see you later. I'm glad you like the brownies," Thatch said considerately. He left to go and share the brownies for the rest in the house. Ace was ashamed, but didn't want to talk to anyone, even Thatch, his maybe-friend. He closed his door, leaning against it with an angry face on. Anger at himself. Why couldn't he be normal?


	5. First Outing

#### Otaku_Girl2176: I love making my readers cry! Mwahaha! That means I pulled at heart strings!

#### SkepticalSunshine: That was the sweetest comment I've ever gotten, thank you! Some of the story is played up to make it more sad, like the child abuse aspect, but all of the feelings Ace has I felt at some point during the whole mess. Not killing myself, but I did feel that no one would care if I died. That didn't last long, thankfully. But thank you for such a kind comment. <3 

**Sixcupsofcoffeetogo: If some random person stranger me, I'd either hit them or run away. Not sure which one. lol.**

* * *

It was later that night that Ace tried eating closer to everyone. He wasn't ready to sit with them, but he leaned against the kitchen counter when he ate the pasta dish. He was close enough to the dining room to hear the conversations. He jumped when someone entered the kitchen from behind him. It was Vista, and he looked surprised to see Ace there.

"Hi, Ace," he said simply, and walked to the refrigerator to refill his glass of water. "We're gonna eat the rest of the brownies soon if you want to have any. They're in the fridge, so it's best to claim them now."

"Okay," Ace replied quietly, his usual reply. But, he didn't take any of the brownies. He didn't need them, and didn't want to risk taking too many, or taking a piece someone else would want. After he finished dinner, he washed the dish and utensils before retiring to the library. He didn't close the hatch this time.

There were no books here that interested him, even despite just how many there were. He was bored, but there wasn't really anything to get his attention with. He leaned back on the couch and looked at the ceiling, thinking about the day. It had been a long one, but a fulfilling one after telling someone and acknowledging what had happened himself.

It was also nice for someone to tell him that it was okay to be hurt over parental abuse. It was a wrong thing to do. For so long, Ace had thought it was normal, and that all of his classmates just covered their marks as well. He only learned that wasn't right when Deuec told him. Ace hadn't believed him at first.

After a while, Ace found himself doodling on a piece of paper on the table with a broken pencil he found in the drawer of it. He was sitting on the floor, legs crossed. He didn't notice when someone came in at first, until they announced themselves. "Hey, Ace," Marco said in a positive voice.

"Hi."

"We were all gonna watch a movie, do you want to come? There's a room here that had a projector on the wall to watch movies like a theater. We're watching the first Avengers movie." Ace had seen that one, and had liked it, but he didn't feel like going with the rest of those living there. He wasn't comfortable being surrounded by others when he wasn't at school.

"No thanks," Ace said in a tight voice, wondering if he would get in trouble for denying.

"Alright. You're welcome to come in later if you change your mind," Marco said nicely. Ace nodded, thinking Marco was going to leave, but instead he came closer. Close enough to see Ace's doodle. It was a bird flying away from a cage. "Hey, that's a good drawing. Would make a good tattoo."

"Tattoo?" Ace asked, having never really thought about ever getting one.

"Yeah, lots of us have them. It makes us feel powerful, y'know? That we overcame whatever happened to land us here. Some don't have any, mostly because they're newer. But it's nice to design your own." Marco pulled up his shirt to show a tattoo over his heart. It was a blue bird, covered in flames that licked along his pectoral. It was beautiful.

"A pheonix? Why?" Ace asked, actually curious.

"Phoenix's are reborn from ashes. I overcame my trouble, so it seemed fitting to get a phoenix. Whatever happened to you, getting a tattoo might make it ending official, basically in writing, you know? Izo has a tattoo. It's really simple, just a stick figure walking away from its own shadow. I'm sure he'd tell you about it if you asked," Marco explained. Ace looked back at his doodle, and really thought about it.

Maybe it would be nice to have something like that. But, he didn't have the money for a tattoo. At least not right now. "I don't have the money for a tattoo," Ace finally said.

"Pops has always paid for the tattoos. He thinks it's a real way of healing mentally, but insurance doesn't exactly pay for that, so he does. It's important to him to get us all help in any way he can. He'll spend it for you, I know it.

"Besides, my tattoo was really expensive and he didn't bat an eye at the price. It helps that he has a lot of money. I don't think a black tattoo of your doodle would cost much if you are worried about the price. Just think about it. I'll go with you if you want, and if you're comfortable, I bet Izo would like to come, too."

"Maybe…" Ace said. He didn't want to go out in public with them, but he also didn't want to get a tattoo on his own. "I'll think about it," he added. Marco smiled, but Ace didn't see it.

"Great! Well, I'm going to go see the movie. Come in at any time," Marco told him before walking back up the stairs and to whatever room he was going to. Even if Ace did change his mind and wanted to see a movie with a bunch of other people, he wouldn't know where to go. Marco hadn't told him where this room was. But, it didn't matter. He wasn't planning on going regardless.

The tattoo thing stuck with Ace all night, even as he tried sleeping. He kept imagining the bird and birdcage image in different parts of his body. Maybe he could get it on one of the spots he had had the worst injury from his dad. The bruise he'd gotten on his stomach from being kicked with a steel-toed boot had left a horrific mark for a long time, swollen and bruises. It was a wonder he didn't have lasting damage from that. He'd been twelve at that time.

But no one would see the tattoo. Well, maybe that was fine. He'd know it was there, that was all that would matter, right? Marco had his tattoo somewhere no one else would see it. Ace finally fell asleep, glad there was no school tomorrow. His classes had been canceled. Both of them, so Marco would be there in the morning as his class had been canceled, too.

When he woke, he had to gather the courage to go to Marco and ask how much it would cost for the tattoo. Even if Newgate paid for it, Ace would want to pay him back for it someday. Maybe when he was on his feet, or had a job. But then he frowned. He was going to die, why was he planning so far ahead? He berated himself. But, before he potentially killed himself, having a tattoo would be nice. He would be buried with something telling him he'd been freed. At least, from external problems. He was still shackled in his mind.

"Marco?" Ace asked uncertainly when he found the man on the couch watching TV. Marco looked up and muted it, smiling at Ace as if he was glad to see him. Why would he?

"What's up?" he asked cheerfully.

"How much do you think a tattoo like what you'd said would cost?" Ace asked, fidgeting uncomfortably. Marco patted the couch for Ace to sit down, which he did, just not very close to his room and classmate.

"Mine cost a lot, since it was larger and colored. So, around $2000." Ace's jaw dropped. That was very expensive! More than any of Ace's financial aid disbursements. "A small tattoo like yours was, in black, would be much cheaper. Maybe a couple hundred dollars, or less, depending on size and location. We can go see at the tattoo parlor if you want."

Ace licked his lips, not wanting to go, but also not wanting to go by himself and seem like an idiot if he got nervous. "It doesn't have to be anytime soon, so you can decide where you want to get it, if you do get it." Ace nodded, and thanked Marco.

"No problem," Marco replied easily.

That weekend, Ace did his best to build the courage to ask to get the tattoo. He'd thought about it constantly for the last two days. It wanted to get it over his stomach. It was a weird place for anyone if they didn't know _why_ he put it there. He also knew what size he wanted, and had perfected the doodle into the design he wanted.

After much debating and courage building, he found the head of the house and asked him about the whole "tattoo thing."

"Yes, most of those who come and go, or come and stay, do get a tattoo. Especially for those that went through more difficult situations. I always pay for them. Marco's was by far the most expensive, but it was no problem. It made him more confident, so it was a win for him and me," Newgate explained patiently. "Are you wanting to get one as well?"

Ace floundered before answering truthfully. "Yeah. I'll pay it back, though," he said quickly afterwards. Newgate smiled, and didn't tell Ace he didn't need to pay him back.

"You can pay it back if you'd like. I'd put the money to good use for those having trouble like you are." It was the right thing to say, because it didn't put pressure on Ace to pay back, but it also made sure that, if he did pay back, it would be for a good cause. And he didn't argue with Ace about telling him there was no need to pay back, which would just make Ace uncomfortable.

"Do you have an idea on where it will go?" He didn't ask a personal question, which would be what it was. Ace pointed to his stomach. He knew it was a weird place to put it, but Newgate didn't say anything about that.

"Well, I look forward to seeing it, if you're comfortable with that. I hope it makes things easier. It has helped many who have come here," Newgate said with a grin. Ace thought he was a nice man, and wondered why he spent all his money doing this. Had to be expensive. But he didn't ask. Even if he wanted to, he didn't. Not wanting to cause trouble or offend him.

Ace thanked him and then left, walking back to his room, excited to get a tattoo. He'd never wanted one before. Well, except when he and Deuce wanted to get matching tattoos from their favorite anime as kids.

It was not the right thing to think about that, as his face crumpled, and he ran to his room. He wouldn't get to share the tattoo with his best friend. His ex best friend. He had to stop thinking of him! He was a traitor! An asshole, he couldn't spare him any thought. He didn't deserve it. But it didn't stop him from crashing onto the bed and crying into the pillows, clenching his hand until his nails dug into his palms. It didn't break the skin, and didn't help block his emotion.

-x-

"Thatch?" Ace asked a couple days later. Thatch was in the kitchen, and Ace had just entered. He looked up from his cooking, dealing with breakfast along with another person Ace hadn't met before. Probably a cook since this place was so rich and huge. How was it a home? More like a palace/hospital facility.

"What's up?" Thatch asked in his tired voice. Ace fidgeted for a second, thinking he shouldn't have even asked anything. He should just go by himself, but he didn't want to offend Thatch and not tell him what he was planning to do.

He finally said, "I'm going to go get a tattoo. Newgate is paying for it. Do you want to get one, too? I don't know if you've gotten one yet. Everyone says they're good to have." He waited for Thatch's response, who looked to really be thinking about it. He had a distant look on, one of contemplation as well. Ace waited patiently as he considered.

"Yes. I'll get one with you," he said in a surprisingly decisive voice, more firm than Ace had heard since he arrived. Since he met Thatch. "When are we going?" Ace smiled weakly. He had already asked Marco to take him, who was happy to do so. Ace wanted to go now, but everyone had to eat breakfast. Thatch seemed to have forgotten that.

Ace replied, "After breakfast? Marco is going to drive me - us." Thatch blinked twice and then looked amused, in a sad way. That he had forgotten about food, which was still cooking. He said it was almost ready, though he didn't know if Ace wanted to eat it.

"There's some more protein shake flavors if you want to try them out," Thatch offered kindly. He was so understanding to Ace that it made him feel warm inside. He hadn't felt that in a long time. But Ace didn't want to be rude. He would eat Thatch's food, trusted his cooking and wouldn't do anything bad to the food. He just still wasn't going to eat with everyone.

He did his very best to stay away from almost everyone. But Thatch and Marco when he came to him. Well, Ace had gone to him that day about the tattoo. It was the weekend, so they had no class. Thankfully. Ace was still having trouble with math, and everyday it felt more like he was going to fail and his plans would be ruined. He wouldn't graduate, and he still wasn't sure about when he was going to off himself.

He ate the food slowly in the kitchen while the others were at the huge table. Ace zoned out of their conversations, unable to focus on them when he had his own things to think about. About the tattoo, about Deuce, about Roger, about failing at school, about anything and everything that wasn't happy one bit. Marco came in to fetch Ace, and Thatch had already told him he was coming along, too. Marco held up the credit card that was connected to Newgate's bank account, which they were going to use for the tattoos. Ace had the design folded into his pocket, while he wondered if Thatch knew what he wanted. Ace hadn't asked, didn't want to intrude, though he felt a bit curious.

Curiosity wasn't really there anymore, the feeling was a bit foriegn. He usually didn't care about anything but his own problems. He headed to the entrance hall to put his shoes on, and left to go to Marco's truck, where Thatch was already standing near. It was a bit chilly but not too bad.

Marco knew a good tattoo parlor, where most of the guys got their tattoos. They were regulars apparently. Thatch was in the passenger seat while Ace was in the cramped backseat. The car was quiet, no one talking. It was a bit awkward but Ace was glad he didn't need to engage in a conversation he didn't want to be part of.

When they got to the parlor, they walked in, and Marco greeted the tattooist by name. "Hey, Bonney," Marco said. "I got two more guys for you to work on." Bonney, the tattooist, greeted Marco as well, and put her box of pizza down. She'd eaten most of it. Ace wondered how anyone could eat that much in one sitting.

Ace fingered the paper in his pocket. "Who's first?"

Marco turned to the two, and Ace volunteered to go first. He was visibly nervous, but could handle pain. It was nothing. A little needlework would be nothing compared to his beatings or punching the mirror. Ace walked to the backroom with Bonney, and sat on the chair. "Where do you want the tattoo to be? Got a design?" she asked bluntly. Ace nodded and took the design out of his pocket. It was a black bird cage on its side, with a bird flying out of it, wings spread wide. It was all inked in.

"I want it in the middle of my stomach," he said, wondering still if that was the right place to put it. It was the only place he could think of. He took off his shirt self consciously, knowing he wasn't the fittest of people, lanky and skinny.

"You sure you want it there? It won't go away," Bonney said, getting a pen out with some tracing paper. Ace nodded. No one was going to see it anyways. Even if he was shirtless, it would still be visible anywhere on his chest. "Alright. I'm gonna trace the design now," she said, and traced the small tattoo, altogether about the side of his palm. He stayed very still, breathing slowly and not too deeply so it didn't impede her work.

The tracing didn't take too long, and soon she had gloves on and was getting the tattoo gun ready, filling it with black ink. The first part didn't hurt too bad, just tracing the outline of his design. It tickled more than it hurt, and Ace stayed still. It took a couple hours, but Ace was patient and silent as she worked. It felt nice, but he wasn't feeling the closure Marco talked about. At least, not yet.

A clean bandage was put over it and he was told not to irritate it. Ace nodded, and gladly left the room, his shirt on but loose enough to not bother the raw tattoo. Thatch was looking nervous but also a bit excited. He hesitantly asked Ace what his tattoo looked like. Ace lifted his shirt to show the freed bird design.

Marco and Thatch both smiled at it. Ace asked Thatch what his was, and he sounded hesitant and nervous to ask as well. Thatch held up a design of a sun going below the horizon, with the moon up. It would take longer, since it was colored and would go over his heart. Ace asked why that.

"My family is gone. My sun has set, but the moon is still beautiful. I just thought of it the second you asked for me to go with you. Thanks," Thatch explained. Ace bit his lip, feeling so sorry for Thatch. Marco also looked sad. Ace said the design was beautiful. He and Marco were waiting in the waiting room for Thatch's first session.

"I'm glad you made friends with Thatch. I guess it's easier to be with others more on the same wavelength, huh?" Marco said after half an hour of silence. Ace looked up, surprised he'd talked. The college student didn't look bothered by Ace being closer to Thatch despite Marco's efforts. "I know we're all super happy, or at least seem to be. Only you and Thatch are having hard times still. It's easier being around like-minded people sometimes."

Ace knew that wasn't true. He'd been friends with an extrovert for a long time. At least, more of an extrovert than he was. "That's not true. I was close friends with an extrovert for a long time. I've always been like this. At least, sort of like this," Ace said, surprised he'd replied honestly. Marco looked surprised, too.

Marco didn't reply, probably not knowing what to say to that. They were quiet for a while, both doing something on their phones. Ace was watching those stupid "satisfying videos" on YouTube without the sound on. Seeing cheese cut in half perfectly was a bit satisfying, not that he'd tell others. They'd think he was stupid for watching them.

He didn't catch Marco looking down at the phone since he was standing, leaning against the wall while Ace was sitting in one of the chairs. "I like seeing jello cut in half more than cheese," Marco said casually, and Ace suddenly locked his phone, the screen going black. "Or when that drippy frosting is poured onto fancy cakes, looking as smooth as water. I heard it tastes gross, though."

Ace felt happy that Marco wasn't teasing him about it, but acting like he watched those videos, too. "I wouldn't know. I haven't had cake in years."

"Not for your birthday?" Marco asked, shocked a bit. But Ace shook his head. "Well that sucks. Maybe we can have cake some time for no real reason. I'm sure Thatch would bake some. He made brownies. He's such a good cook, I'm glad he's able to do that and enjoys it." Ace nodded, agreeing that Thatch's food was yummy, even if he didn't always eat it. "Maybe you could help him."

The younger shook his head. "I'm not good at that stuff. I just break the eggs and make a mess," he replied sadly. Marco hummed, but didn't reply.

Thatch came back out, the bandage and sensitive unfinished ink on his upper arm. It was going to be very pretty. Marco paid Bonney with the credit card, and Ace hoped and planned to repay Newgate before he killed himself, which he still didn't know would happen.

The three walked to the car, and Ace lifted his shirt to see the tattoo in the backseat again. He had a happy feeling at seeing it, but didn't feel free. Marco probably saw him in the backseat, looking sad, and said, "It's just a small step. You still have things to work through to be happy."

Ace looked away, out the window, a frown on. Marco shouldn't have said anything. It's not like Ace had said something, he was just looking at the tattoo. Marco asked if they wanted to go by a Starbucks, but they didn't since Thatch and Ace both just wanted to go back to the house.

It was still light outside when they got back, even though it had taken a long time to get both tattoos. Thatch would go back next week to have more of his done. Ace thanked Marco for taking them, and then fled to his room, having been out socializing too much.

The young man found himself looking at his phone, being stupid. He was looking at Deuce's icon in his text page. He was an idiot, and looked through the messages from last year. When they were closer than ever. He found no signs in any of the messages that would preview the big break up. Tears slipped down his cheeks, and he felt like throwing the phone across the room. But he didn't, and instead kept scrolling through the happy memories.

Then, he tortured himself further by looking at all of the pictures of the two of them on Google photos. They were so happy. Deuce was always the one smiling bigger, with Ace grinning but not as vibrant. His hands shook and his body wracked with silent sobs.

He locked the phone and flopped down on the bed, his face buried in the pillow as he sobbed. It felt good, but at the same time terrible, to cry like this. He was mourning what he'd lost, and what it'd done to him. He was always going to break one day, he just didn't think most of it would come from his friend who always kept him together.

Maybe Ace had been a burden from the start. If only he'd been strong enough to still be strong even with the daily beatings. If only he'd been able to handle it and be a normal friend, not so dependent. No one wants a friend like that, right? But he was okay with Thatch being depressed and he just met him. Why could Deuce not stand him?

None of it was worth it, was it? Ace was too much of a burden. Maybe he just texted too much, maybe he tried too hard. Many it was always going to end up like this. There was no such thing as a best friend forever. What a _lie._


	6. Why Are You Doing This For Me?

**Sixcupsofcoffeetogo: This chapter has lots of sadness (who's surprised) but some fluffy Marco moments. Not romance, but sweet friendship.**

* * *

**Enjoy the fluffy Marco Ace moment in this one. No romance, but just Marco being an absolute sweetheart. Enjoy~**

* * *

Ace's second counseling appointment was just as bad as the first. After telling Thatch, he didn't feel like he had any reason to talk to this lady. At the end, Ace said he didn't want to have another visit. It was too uncomfortable. Tami was understanding, even if Ace saw the disappointment. He was always a disappointment, wasn't he? Never good enough.

"Well, I do think it would be better to continue the sessions, but it's your decision and no one will force you," Tami said. Ace nodded, and then left, hurrying back inside. Another sign of his utter patheticness. He couldn't handle talking to a stranger. But someone he knew was trusted by everyone else in the house.

Marco could probably handle it. So could Deuce, who was able to do anything, loved meeting new people. Were they even friend material? They were so different, but that didn't matter then. Ace knew looking at the memories on his phone was a mistake. He was thinking about his broken friendship more, and how useless he was. Everything was worse now. Why did he look at that stuff? What was wrong with him?

He was asking himself that hourly now. He ran into Haurta in the hallway, and he asked how the visit went, him clearly enjoying the sessions. "I'm not doing it anymore. I have to go do homework," Ace replied, and left before the man could say anything again.

Ace did have to do homework, but as he looked at his math homework, he found himself not processing anything at all. The last resort was to go on Photomath and just get the answers there. He hated cheating, but he couldn't do it on his own. No one would know, it didn't matter. He could still show his work. It didn't matter.

He couldn't cheat on his programming assignment, and worked on his lab for the next class session. There was one thing he was good at and that was programming. It was hard, but he got his work done on time every time. He was dropping in math, but he was steady in his programming class. Though he didn't have any friends anymore who liked it. He and Deuce would - _stop thinking about him!_

Ace wiped his eyes, and got back to work, purposely making everything more complicated so it took longer to finish and he had something productive to do instead of just freeloading or moping around the estate, wallowing in self hatred and pity.

Dinner, again, Ace did not go to. He ate leftovers from the night before. It was fine, the food was just as good cold as it was hot. He leaned against the counter, looking at the wood floor. His house had had tile. He'd hated the tile. It was too cold and hard. He prefered carpet. There was less of a chance falling on a hard surface when being beaten.

Ace shook his head, thinking that that didn't matter anymore right? These people weren't allowed to beat him. At least, not bad enough for them to get caught. Izo had all of that make up after all. He could cover up injuries easily. He shook his head, not wanting to think badly of Thatch and Marco. They wouldn't support him getting beaten, and when Ace had talked to Thatch, heart to heart, he didn't make any off show when Ace admitted he was abused.

He rinsed out and washed the tupperware container, and headed to his room. He was tired. It was only seven, but he was too tired to stay awake. His homework was done, so he could go to sleep easy. He set his alarm clock for the next morning, 5:00, so he could get ready for school and walk there. He was a fast walker, he could make it, even if it was dark out.

He said goodnight to no one and fell asleep easily.

The next morning, when his alarm went off, he rolled over to dismiss it. It was still dark outside, no light coming from between the closed blinds of the big window overlooking the backyard. He threw the blankets off and knew he was sick. He could just tell. His throat was sore, he felt light headed, his nose was runny but also plugged, and he kept coughing. Great.

He was still in his pyjamas as he slowly walked through the house, not touching anything and risking spreading germs, and headed to the little infirmary on the bottom floor. He walked down the stairs without holding the railing, and entered the room to look for a thermometer. Today was his health class; he could afford to miss it. But he didn't want to be a burden to these people. He would take care of it himself.

He found what he was looking for and took his temperature: 102.8. So, not too bad. He searched the medicine cabinets, and found some tylenol and motrin, taking the bottles and heading to the kitchen to get a bottle of water. He downed two tylenol, the bottle and motrin in his pants pockets.

He slowly walked back to the upper floor and to his room before writing: "Sick, not going to school" on the whiteboard on his door. For once he thought it was quite helpful. He went to the bathroom and yanked off a lot of the toilet paper to use as tissue, since he had none and didn't know where he could get any without having to ask.

Curling up back under the covers, he fell asleep again, not setting an alarm. He'd email his professor later.

He barely woke up when there was a knock on the door, soft but audible. Ace was too tired to answer it, so he just didn't. The person would go away, not care enough. He just put the pillow over his head and fell back asleep.

But, whoever had knocked did not just leave, and slowly opened the door. It was Marco, not that Ace could tell. "Ace?" he asked, standing next to Ace's bed. "Ace, are you okay?" Ace moaned out for him to go away.

Marco saw the pill bottles on the bedside table underneath the lamp, and a bottle of water that was partially empty. He also saw the thermometer and turned it on to see the most recent temperature, which showed him Ace had a high fever. Not dangerously high, but a high one all the same.

He gently pulled the comforter off of Ace, leaving the sheets. Ace grumbled, but didn't do anything to get the heavy blanket back. Being too hot with a fever wasn't the right thing to do. Marco asked loudly if Ace was hungry, and the young man's stomach grumbled at the mention of food. "I'm gonna go get you some soup, okay?" Marco said loudly, and Ace just nodded, thinking it would get Marco to leave. He didn't actually think Marco would bring him food. And he was a little delirious. He was so sweaty, and felt sticky, but was too tired to do anything about it. The blonde entered the room again with a tray with a slightly steaming bowl of soup, crackers on the side, with some gatorade.

"Ace, wake up, I brought you food," Marco said, and Ace grumbled again. The visitor sighed, not really knowing what to do. He set the tray at the edge of the bed. He pat Ace's cheek, who mumbled but opened his eyes. "I brought you food, you should get something in your stomach and then I'll let you sleep until lunch." Ace didn't process that Marco was skipping class to take care of Ace. Why would anyone do that in the first place?

But he cooperated, and was helped to sit up by Marco, sitting against the wooden headboard. Marco brought the tray over and set it over Ace's lap. Ace robotically ate the soup, crackers and drank some of the gatorade before Marco tucked him in again. He set an alarm on his phone to come back at lunch, and then left with the empty tray.

Ace slept until lunch, when his phone went off about being able to take more pills. He didn't realize that Marco had been there, having been so out of it he didn't process it. He opened the pill bottle and took two more, and was about to go back to bed when the door was gently knocked on and opened. Marco entered, and usually, Ace would be irate with him walking right in.

"What?" he asked tiredly.

"Thatch made you some soup for lunch. The breakfast one was canned, sorry about that," Marco said nicely. Ace couldn't smell the soup through his stuffy nose but it looked yummy when it was set in his lap. "Did you take more medicine for your fever?"

Ace nodded, wondering why Marco was helping him. It wasn't like Ace was always open and nice to him. He looked to the doorway to see Thatch looking worried, his hair not how it usually was and instead was down, with a headband keeping it out of his face. "Good! Now, you have to eat."

"But, why?" Ace asked in a tired voice, though he was awake enough to remember what was happening at that moment. Marco and Thatch looked confused. Thatch asked, "Why what?"

"Why are you helping me?"

Marco sighed and said, "You may not believe it, but we both want to be your friend. You say you don't want any, but you can't stop us from thinking you're our friend." Thatch nodded in agreement. Ace rubbed the tears away, and kept himself from saying he didn't want to be their friends. That would be cruel, and possibly a lie. "Now, you have to eat something. And drink, too," Marco insisted.

Ace nodded and ate the soup, and they left him be for a little while, probably sensing his growing discomfort, even if they were kind to him. He finished all of the soup and crackers, taking large gulps of the gatorade. He didn't call them back, and didn't want to face them again, embarrassed with the tears. In the end, if he showed weakness then they would abandon him. If he wanted new friends, he could never be himself. There was something wrong with him, after all.

Things would be so much easier if he had a real answer as to what had changed things. He hated Deuce. Wanted the truth from him but never wanted to talk to him again. Not after what had come of the break up, no matter how much of it was Ace's fault. Deuce was partly responsible. Well, he'd started Ace's rapid decline of confidence and mental health when he stopped answering him months ago.

Thatch came back in later, without Marco, and sat on Ace's bed. "Hey, how are you?" Thatch asked sincerely. Ace had a feeling that he didn't mean body-wise. Ace shrugged, not sure what to say.

"I have to email my professor," Ace said, going to his phone.

"That can wait for awhile. Marco said that your more important classes weren't today," Thatch replied. Ace shut up and nodded. But he wanted to do something productive. He fidgeted with his shirt. "Do you want to talk about it?" Ace shook his head. "Okay, then I'll take this stuff. Marco or I will come check on you in a couple hours." The youngest nodded, and thanked Thatch for his kindness. "Of course." He paused for a moment as Ae refused to meet his gaze. "You are not worthless, Ace, and you deserve people to love you."

Ace bit his lip, but didn't reply, not sure what to say back to that. Thatch smiled at him sadly and left the room. The college student sat in bed for a long time, just thinking about everything and nothing. About all of the bad things about him. Making a list of why he wasn't worthy of friends anymore. He wrecked his own life and got his abusive father thrown in jail. He'd done something bad enough to be abandoned by his best friend. He was failing in math. He was weak, stupid, worthless.

Why did Thatch say something like that? Why did Marco want to take care of him? It didn't make sense to him, not at all. He eventually silently cried himself to sleep, and had no dreams he remembered when he was woken up hours later to take another dose of pills to combat the fever.

Dinner time came and went before the door opened, Ace still sleeping. Marco walked in and gently woke Ace up. "Ace, it's dinner time. We made you something other than chicken noodle soup, thinking you got sick of it."

"O-Okay," Ace replied awkwardly. "Thanks." Ace didn't ask what it was before digging in. it tasted different from the previous soup, more like beef. Something Thatch made again for him. And Marco said he helped him. They were too nice to him. Marco would probably leave him if he knew about what he told Thatch.

Then he thought about the fact that Thatch knew all of that stuff and still wanted to be friends. Maybe it's because Ace knew all that stuff about him and was nice, so Thatch felt he owed it to Ace to be his friend. He convinced himself they were lying, and he didn't have an easy time falling back asleep, until he eventually did, and slept peacefully until the next morning, when his alarm went off.

-x-

Marco gave him a ride to school, and he was quiet the whole time. He had forgotten to email his professor, and so he did it when he woke up in the morning, apologizing for being late. The man had not responded yet. Marco didn't try to get him to talk, and just put the radio on. It was better to not talk for Ace.

He wished he could ride his bike already, but he still couldn't use both of his hands. Marco parked the truck near their class, the math class, and they walked there together. Marco was much taller than Ace was, and he looked much older. It didn't help that Ace had a baby face, his freckles making him seem younger than he actually was.

They didn't talk, which Ace was still glad of. Marco took his personal space seriously and didn't bother him when he didn't want to talk. It was different than when they first started interacting and Marco constantly wanted to talk or hang out. It had put Ace off, and the older man seemed to understand it, which Ace was grateful for.

They had no test that day, which Ace was happy about. He would fail it. But he got his homework done, and turned it in with the rest of the class. His handwriting was much better than it was when he first was hurt. It was messy, but numbers were easier to write than sentences. And his teacher was considerate. was a kind woman, which Ace needed that semester.

Note taking was still hard, so had printed him out the notes, which Ace thanked her for from the bottom of his heart after class. "I'm sorry I'm not doing well. I'm trying, just a lot of unfortunate stuff has happened lately. I'm not in the right mindset right now," he explained awkwardly.

"I understand. I will do what I can to help you pass the class," the professor said, and Ace thanked her again, sniffling slightly to keep the tears at bay.

Programming was easy, like usual. He finished the lab in record time, and even helped the guy sitting next to him, since he looked like he was about to fall apart. "You have to use a for loop for this part. And then you have to set argv to a character." The guy was very surprised for Ace's help, since he usually stayed quiet the whole class.

"Th-thank you," he said in shock, and Ace nodded. He turned the lab in and then left. He wished he could go to the cafe, but he still had no money. He needed to get a job. Not that it would matter much if he only died a few weeks later. There was one month left of school, one more month to decide if he was going to end his life any time soon.

Later that day, he found himself looking at his texts again. Seeing the count of the texts he'd had with Deuce. 750 of them. He grit his teeth and kept himself from opening them. He didn't want to see them. He didn't want to think of good things about the betrayer. He didn't want to even look at them again, but knew he would. He'd have another moment of weakness and stupidity.

He hovered his thumb over the button to open it, and before he could stop himself, he held it down and then deleted everything he'd ever texted with Deuce. And he immediately regretted it. He had been on a bench in the open area of the school, and quickly headed under the bridge that covered the little stream that ran through the area, and broke down underneath it.

Now he could never see the good times they'd had. Could never reminisce in the future after he wasn't hurting anymore. He was an impulsive idiot, just like he was when he goaded Roger into beating the crap out of him. Stupid.

He didn't get a ride home from Marco. He walked all four miles, hood up and hiding his red and puffy face. He couldn't stop crying, again. He was so weak, crying like a baby over stupid stuff. He hated himself for what he'd done. He betrayed his future self by taking away something precious that he might have liked once things were faded and the pain dulled.

When he entered the house, Thatch was cooking and humming in the kitchen. Ace wanted to tell someone about what he did, so he went to the kitchen and found the man decorating a chocolate cake. It looked delicious, and probably was since he was so good at brownies, too. When Ace wasn't messing it up for him, that is.

"Hey, Ace. Are you okay?" Thatch asked, seeing the slightly puffy eyes and lips. Ace shook his head. "Want to talk about it?" He nodded. "Alright, let me just put this in the fridge. Marco told me you haven't had a cake in a long time."

Ace didn't comment, but headed to the basement/library, Thatch following. They closed the hatch behind them, Thatch locking it. Ace sat on the couch, bringing his knees up to his chest. "What happened?" Thatch asked quietly. Ace sniffled and wiped his eyes.

"It's stupid," Ace muttered. Thatch didn't respond, waiting for Ace to continue. "I've had more trouble with my ex-friend. And… I thought that deleting the evidence of our friendship was a good idea at that moment. So I deleted everything, all of the texts. I regretted it right afterwards," Ace explained, tears down his face. He put his teary face in his knees. "I'm so stupid. Why did I do that?"

Thatch stood up and sat next to Ace, putting his arm around his shoulders. "Everyone makes mistakes, and maybe in the short-term, this will be good. You'll no longer look at happy memories that have been ruined." Ace nodded, though he didn't know if Thatch was right. But, maybe for the short term, it would be good. He won't have the urge to look at the painful, good memories. Everything was a mess. He was a mess, his life was a mess, his future was short.

He stayed with Thatch for a while before he left to go get some cake for both of them. Ace wasn't particularly hungry, but he didn't want to be rude about it, and slowly ate the cake, even though he didn't want to. It was good, but it made his stomach hurt, probably just because he had no appetite.

Ace isolated himself after that, in the backyard, away from everyone. It was a bad day. Every day was a bad day, but this one was particularly bad. Because he'd sabotaged himself. He hated that he deleted all of the memories. He stared at his phone angily. He felt the urge to smash it to pieces, throwing it on the ground and stomping on it.

But he didn't. He didn't have the money to get a new phone. And he didn't want to do something else he'd regret. He felt enough for one thing, he didn't need two. Marco came a bit later when Ace was still sitting, curled up in the corner of the yard behind a tree. How did Marco know he was there?

He walked over to Ace, and sat down a few feet away from him. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

"Mm-hmm," Ace mumbled, not looking at his classmate. Marco tried to be nice to him, and Ace always declined. He didn't want a friend. Well, more than one. He'd always only had one friend and that was enough. But maybe that wasn't true. Now he had no friends. He depended on Deuce too much. No wonder he left. Deuce had lots of other friends, he was probably just fine after their break up.

Marco pulled something out of the bag he was carrying, and moved over to sit closer to Ace, who curled up a little more when he got closer. Marco handed him a beautiful journal. "This is for you. You don't like sharing your problems, and I understand. But don't let them bottle up, y'know? So, keep a journal about your feelings. I had four, three of them completely full."

Ace took the journal from him, and asked why. "I don't know who hurt you, Ace, but here, no one will. You don't need to tell anyone, but just don't bottle everything up and then explode." He pulled up his capris, and showed a long row of thin, pinkish-white lines. "Don't bottle it up and end up with scars like these." Ace looked shocked at them. Marco was so well put together, he never thought he'd have done this.

"Don't be so surprised, Ace. Not everyone wears their pain on their sleeves. I bottled mine up much too long. And I had no one to help me out of it when things were really bad. I don't want that to happen to you, too. You deserve to be happy, just like everyone else," Marco said emphatically. "And I copied my notes for class since you hurt your hands. I slid them under your bedroom door."

Ace looked and felt shocked, and confused. "Why? Why are you helping me? I've never been open or kind to you," Ace said, so confused. Marco smiled at him.

"I see myself in you a lot of the time. I won't go into detail, but I used to act the way you are now. I came here after I escaped an abusive home. I was _mean and nasty._ But still, Pops helped me. I want you to be like I am, happy. We both will always have problems, whatever those may be, but they can get better. You don't know how much an acquaintance can mean to someone." He bit his lip and his brows furrowed. "I know you don't want friends, so I am not your friend, I'm a kind classmate who wants to see you happy."

Ace had tears in his eyes. "You'll just leave me if we're friends," he mumbled, voice broken and face confused. Marco put his hand on Ace's head softly. Ace didn't flinch.

"Maybe we'll grow apart, maybe we'll end up in different places. Not every friendship has to last forever. We can be friends, but not close, but still have nice memories. I won't be going anywhere anytime soon, so if you ever want it, I'll be open to being friends," Marco replied. Ace nodded, hugging the journal close to him.

Marco left the yard and went inside. Ace looked at the journal and lower to see Marco had dropped a pencil for him. Ace hadn't even noticed. He picked up the pencil and opened the journal. The lines were spaced widely apart, and Ace slowly "wrote" what he felt. It didn't really turn into words, but into a scribbled black mess. How he felt inside: a mess.

He didn't see anyone watching him, and wrote some more. Somehow, it turned into a short story. He didn't like writing his problems, someone might see it and he didn't want to reread it someday in the future. His pain turned into someone else's. A story mirroring his. The name wasn't the same, so he somehow felt safer writing everything.

It became his new project. A story about his situation. It was better than what Marco had intended. It didn't make him feel better or worse, it distracted him, fully. Even in bed, he wasn't thinking about himself, but what part of his pain he could project into his story. He would not be using this notebook as a journal, but Marco didn't need to know that.


	7. Starting to Accept Help

#### im_done_with_yall_peoples24: I guess I won't be getting any kisses. LOL. Ace is too insecure to try and publish a book anyways, though. But thanks for liking my story.

**Sixcupsofcoffeetogo: I actually cry with a lot of stories I write. The angsty ones or the ones where I kill of characters. I'm a sadist, mostly to Ace and Luffy. LOL.**

* * *

**Much shorter chapter with a cameo from someone.**

* * *

A week later, Ace struggling to hold onto the C in math, he finally bit the bullet. He was failing in that class, not that the grade reflected it yet. So, he knocked on Marco's door on a Saturday, knowing he was in there because he checked everywhere else first. Thatch was in the kitchen, which wasn't surprising. Cooking for Thatch was writing for Ace.

Marco opened the door and looked surprised to see Ace there. "Ace. What's up?" he asked in a pleasant voice.

"Um, will you help me with the study guide?" he asked, voice shaking. He was embarrassed to ask for help. Marco already knew he was a mess, so why didn't he know Ace was stupid? Marco smiled at him, and opened the door wider, letting Marco in.

His room was much better than Ace's. The only thing about Ace's room that refelcetd him as a person was how messy the floor was. He had nothing on the walls. He had nothing, really, in the first place. Marco's room was colorful, with book posters on the walls, framed photos. Ace recognized some of the people in the photos from this place.

Marco really loved this place, which was why he ended up staying. "What did you need help on?" he asked pleasantly. Ace grew red in the face at the question.

"...The calculator is giving me problems. I keep messing up the equation, and I wasn't able to process what I was reading online," he admitted in a rush. Marco took out his own calculator, and compared it with Ace's, which had been in his pocket.

By the end of the visit, Marco had managed to help Ace come up with word play to remember what buttons in which order. Ace was surprised to leave with almost a smile. Almost. He made sure to thank Marco and then wrote down the phrase a few times on a scratch piece of paper to memorize it. The notes that Marco had given him had helped, but he still wasn't getting his grade up. His homework stayed fine, but the weekly quizzes were killing him slowly, painfully.

Miss Nico had talked to him after the previous class session, and offered him online tutoring. It was embarrassing, but she didn't say anything hinting he was failing. Why were people being so nice to him? He ruined everything. He was a burden to them, to everyone. Deuce thought tha- _no, stop it._

He was like a poison, seeping into Ace's thoughts at every chance he could get. Deleting the messages was not helpful. Not in the least, when he started having almost flashbacks whenever he saw anything related to something they'd done in their prime. He hated it. It was distracting as hell. But it wasn't distraction that messed him up during quizzes and tests, it was how he sabotaged himself.

Ace couldn't help it. He didn't believe in anything he did. Every question he felt he got right, he second guessed it, even if the calculator said it was correct multiple times. His hands were shaking the whole time, but his writing was barely legible. As long as she could read it it didn't need to be perfect.

Once he was done, one of the last to finish, Marco already left, she talked to him and told him she had the tutor set up for him the next day at 1:00 in the library. She gave him the tutor's number, who was the same age but much better at math. Ace had been to a tutor before, but not when he was in such a bad place at the moment.

"Thanks," he said, and put the number in his phone. _Sabo._ He didn't know what to expect. Hopefully he was a nice person, understanding. He was worried, but knew Miss Nico would not set him up with a mean tutor. She knew he had troubles in his life, even if she didn't know what they were specifically.

Ace went home early that day, walking the whole way. He skipped programming because he was already caught up on everything. Marco didn't drive by and pick him up, thankfully. Ace had a lot to think about, like always. He wished he could just shut his brain off sometimes. That there was a botton he could press that would stop him from thinking about anything negative.

On the walk, his thoughts eventually changed to his story. His pain fueled it like gasoline of a fire. He had so many ideas. It distracted him and he was grateful for it from Marco. He really was a nice guy, and Ace felt he had no ulterior motives. Thatch was nice as well, even though he was suffering like Ace was, only in a much different way. Ace still thought he had it worse off that he did. That his family died and the rest rejected him. Poor guy.

When he got home, he went inside to do homework and practice for the next day, not wanting to appear a total mess in front of Sabo. He texted the tutor before dinner, confirming that he'd be there tomorrow on time.

_That's great! I'll see you tomorrow. Have a nice evening._

Ace wondered what kind of guy he was. He ate dinner in the kitchen again, still not comfortable eating with the others. It had been weeks, and yet he wasn't ready to share space with them. It was ridiculous, and he felt stupid and weak. Marco made sure to tell him that it was not abnormal for the newcomers to self-isolate depending on how bad their situation was.

He would walk the next day, and did. He made it on time, fifteen minutes beforehand, which he was glad of. He had his backpack and everything ready to learn. He hoped he didn't make too much of a spectacle with his idiocy. At least he might not see Sabo again after this.

The guy arrived right on time and saw Ace and walked to their reserved table in the library. This area was for study groups, so talking was allowed. "Hi, Ace. I'm Sabo, it's nice to meet you," he said. He was blonde with curly hair and a scar across his eye. Looked like a burn. He wore strangely formal clothes, but it suited him somehow.

"Hi," Ace said. They got right into it, Ace asking questions about the next study guide and going over the last test so he knew what to do for the dreaded final, which was approaching ever closer as the end of the semester did as well. He was growing restless with not having a clear plan of whether he was cutting his life short or not.

Sabo was understanding, and patient. He didn't get mad at Ace once for repeating questions. It was surprising. Why was he meeting nice people all of the sudden? And why did they help him when he was such a mess?

Halfway through the session, Sabo's phone rang. He apologized and looked at it. "I'm sorry, it's my little brother. He's accident prone, can I answer?" he asked politely, looking regretful for the interruption. Ace nodded and stayed quiet while Sabo spoke. "Luffy? What is it, I'm tutoring someone."

Ace couldn't hear what was being said on the other line, but Sabo's face grew impatient. "No, I don't know when Hamtaro will be on. Go on YouTube. No, I know, but I'm busy. I can't talk right now. I'm going to go. I'm hanging up, goodbye," he said.

"I'm sorry, he's an idiot. He watches an old cartoon about hamsters with his own. He's a dumbass but I love him." Ace looked confused and shocked. He remembered that show from his childhood, early childhood. But now?

"How old is he?" Ace found himself asking accidentally. He worried he'd offended Sabo, but he just laughed.

"Luffy is 18. You wouldn't know that if you met him," Sabo laughed. Ace resisted a chuckle, and they got back to work. By the end, Ace felt slightly more confident and less worried about the next test. "If you ever want to do this again, I'll be glad to help out. You can message me anytime, and I'll answer as soon as possible."

Ace thanked him deeply for the help. "No problem. You seem like a nice guy, I hope you do well on your test. Math can be very challenging. I hated it until I finally understood it." Ace nodded silently, and both got their things together, leaving at the same time and heading in the same direction.

Sabo had a ride while Ace was to walk. It was a Friday, so he hadn't had classes. That's what allowed him to spend hours with the tutor. Ace walked past his car, and Sabo waved one last time. Ace waved back weakly and walked back to the house. No one picked him up, and he was fine with that.

-x-

Marco helped him study the day before the test, which Ace was very grateful for. Marco was being so kind to him that it made him a bit guilty for not returning it in full. He was never disrespectful, but was closed off and didn't talk much. The blonde had stopped pressing him on anything, which Ace was thankful for, and Marco seemed to know it.

Thatch brought them food during breaks, and asked if he could help. Ace didn't understand _why._ His own best friend got tired of him, why would these two try so hard when Ace was already a mess when they first met? Was it pity? Or did they actually want to be friends? Want to help him out of the goodness of their hearts?

After Ace became overwhelmed with thoughts and could no longer focus, Marco ended the session and said Ace could come back later if he wished. Ace thanked him, but did not go back. He studied by himself instead.

Ace was reading over the notes he'd made with Sabo on Friday, and heard a beep on his phone, showing he'd gotten a message. On instinct, he assumed it was Deuce, since he was the only person who had really texted with him. But he shot that thought down immediately. He'd never talk with Deuce again. Even if he messaged back, he'd hurt Ace too much. Way too much.

So, he wasn't surprised that it was not Deuce. Of course it wasn't. He hated himself for feeling a small bit of sadness at it. He smacked his forehead hard and winced. He opened Sabo's message, which was " _This might help you out"_ with a link to a video. " _Fingers crossed for you!"_ Ace was surprised he'd texted him. Sure, they had gotten along, but it wasn't like Ace had been very interesting.

He opened the video, which was about to calm test nerves. Ace was a bit upset at first, but knew it was Sabo being kind. He watched the video, though he didn't know if it would work. Might as well try. It was better than not doing anything and letting anxiety overwhelm him during the test. It was a big test, too. Not the final, but one of the more important ones.

" _Thank you, I will try and use that during the test."_ Sabo sent back a simple smiley face. Sabo was kind, Marco was kind, Thatch was kind. What was going on? Why was Ace being encouraged by nice people? It'd never been like this before.

He was in pain emotionally after Deuce and that agonizing and cruel break up, but people were trying to help him. Marco and Thatch especially. The others in the house had given him space like he wished, but still said things like "good morning" or simple hellos.

Ace was confused and conflicted. He was new to this. New to have other friends. Would they just leave him, too? Maybe he could accept them, but at arm's length. So they wouldn't hurt him so badly if he got close to them. _I don't want someone else. I want him._

He dug his fingernails into his skin painfully until they were close to bleeding to try and stop thinking about that like a sore loser. It was over! Move on! He rolled onto his stomach and shoved his face in his pillow and sighed deeply.

Ace cared too much. He let himself to depend on Deuce too much. It bothered him that it'd been months since the nightmare truly ended. It had been so many weeks since Deuce started to ignore him. He had all that time to get used to the thought of it being over. It would have been better if he'd had no hope, so when it eventually ended for sure, he wouldn't be so hurt. Wouldn't have ruined his life over a friend who left him.

He was positive it wouldn't have been so bad if he had more friends, or family that loved him. When Deuce left, Ace was alone in the world. Then he made everything worse. But… these people were trying to be kind to him. He didn't want to trust in a friend ever again, but maybe he'd move on if some others tried to fit themselves in the empty part of his heart that had been gaping for what felt like forever and barely any time at all.

Deciding to try and accept them, he still didn't know how to go about it. Maybe talking with them? But what if he annoyed them or sounded dumb? He was so stressed, and eventually fell asleep, even though it wasn't late.

Ace's alarm went off in his ear in the morning, startling him awake in a panic. He sighed once he was fully awake and knew it was his alarm and walked into the bathroom to shower quickly. He let the water run over his face for a couple minutes before walking out, drying with a nice towel, big and fluffy.

He hesitantly knocked on Marco's door, wanting to make the first move. It took so much courage to do it, and he couldn't back out now. Marco opened the door and looked surprised to see Ace there. "What's up?"

Ace was sweating in nerves and looked down. "Can I have a ride to school today?" he asked. Marco smiled, still looking shocked, and said he would be glad to. Ace looked up and gave the tiniest smile. "Thanks. Sorry to ask for short-notice," Ace said.

Marco didn't seem annoyed with him, which was a relief to Ace. A big one! He went downstairs for breakfast, and found Thatch cooking, like usual. He looked up to see Ace and asked if he wanted a protein shake or food. On days that Ace was upset, he did his best not to eat solid foods because they hurt his stomach. He wasn't starving himself, but he didn't want to feel sick from eating.

But he was feeling better, and asked for some food. "I can make it myself," he offered. Thatch gave him a tired smile and said he'd make him some eggs and bacon. Thatch almost always looked tired. Ace felt so bad for him, but couldn't relate to losing all of his family. His family had never loved him. He didn't know the feeling Thatch had lost.

"Thanks," he said, and sat at the kitchen island counter. He might be feeling better based on Marco's response, but was not ready to eat in the dining room at the huge table. Maybe someday, but not now. Thatch cooked his food relatively quickly. No one else was awake besides Ace, Thatch and Marco. They always got up earliest. Ace and Thatch usually before Marco since Thatch cooked the breakfast and Ace more often than not walked the long walk to school.

He ate the food and Marco came down fully ready. Thatch made him some food as well. "So, what made you want to be given a ride today? Cause of the test?" Marco wondered, sitting two seats over at the island. Ace nodded, though that wasn't the reason. He was trying. Attempting to be polite and return dialogue.

After breakfast, Thatch wished both good luck on their tests. Ace got into Marco's messy truck, but didn't care much since his room was a mess of clothes all over the floor. It had always been like that, really. He had to keep the rest of the house clean for Roger, besides his chair area with tons of alcohol cans and bottles.


	8. The Deciding Factors

**Sixcupsofcoffetogo: lol, it's fine. I'm just glad you like all of the chapters!**

* * *

**Here we are at the end! I finally finished the only story I've ever posted that was unfinished, so if you're into a ZoLu fic, check it out! This is my last week of doing labs and then next week is the final and last project and then I'm done and graduated! Bummed I don't get a real graduation ceremony and I never got to say goodbye to the campus, but still, I'm graduating! Bittersweet. Enjoy~**

* * *

They didn't talk during the ride, which Ace was glad of. He was going over things for the test in his head. And the steps Sabo had sent him. When they arrived, they both walked together to their class. Ace had his note card in his hand, which Sabo had kindly helped him with, and was studying it. It was a bit hard to read, but he was able to.

Marco wished him good luck on the test when they both took their seats. He just nodded, not wanting to speak. When he got the test, he saw it was short but the problems were very long. He looked at his note card, and felt the first wave of panic, that much of what he'd written down was not on the test.

He closed his eyes. He followed the breathing exercises from the video, and went over the encouraging words. _I can do this, if I can't I will do my best guess. Skip the questions that stump me and move on. Revisit it and then maybe you will have remembered how to do it by then. Take it slow, don't pay attention to anyone else. If you're last to finish, that is fine, everyone works at different speeds._ He tensed and relaxed his muscles many times before the panic subsided.

He did each question slowly, skipping a few. He made notes on the side of the test like they were allowed. He checked and rechecked answers on the calculator. Thanks to Marco, he was able to remember how to use the calculator effectively.

By the end, he was no longer panicking, and he was not the last to finish. He hadn't even noticed when Marco left. He walked up to the desk, and Miss Nico made an exception for him and graded it on the spot. Ace's heart hammered in his chest, stomach clenching in worry that, even with all the help, he'd still bombed it.

But the professor smiled at him and held the graded paper up. 89%. Ace looked happier than he had in months. Miss Nico quietly congratulated him, and Ace left the class with a bounce in his step. Of course, it didn't last too long, but it was nice while it did.

Marco was in the cafe, and Ace saw him and sat down. He texted Sabo a thanks for the anti-test anxiety video. He didn't reply, probably busy. Marco studied him when he sat down. Ace didn't leave him hanging for long, and said his score.

"That's great! Congrats! I'll buy you something for celebration," he said, and bought Ace a hot chocolate before he had the time to decline. Ace thanked him quietly. He was a bit lost in his thoughts. Was he actually excited to pass? After all, if he graduated and passed, then his plan for suicide was more likely.

Did he actually want to? Give Deuce that power over him? Be pathetic because his friend ditched him when he needed him. Of course, Ace always needed him before now. Now he just wanted to forget about him and what they had. He sighed and looked at his hands on the table. He was so conflicted. But, he had a few more weeks left to decide.

-x-

That weekend, Ace had decided to go shopping for a new backpack since he was in terrible condition. He had started taking money out of the savings account he had. It was not much, only a couple thousand since he'd been sneaking in money from financial aid for years so his dad didn't know. He had pulled it off, but had been wary to touch it. But his logic was that he was going to die soon anyway, so why not use it for some good?

He was told he got an allowance from the house, from Newgate, but he didn't want to take it. He refused it, no matter what they said. He didn't want to end up owing them. Not that it really mattered.

Thatch offered to go with him, and he accepted. They were borrowing one of the shared cars, since not all of the people living there had cars. Thatch was a good driver, and Ace didn't have a license since he'd never been allowed to use Roger's car in the first place. He used his bike religiously.

They were stopping at the mall since Thatch had something he wanted to get, too. The mall was relatively empty on a Friday afternoon. They first went to the store that had a lot of bags and backpacks. Ace was not looking for anything expensive or fancy, and chose a simple Jansport. He bought it and wore it as he went with Thatch to the food court before they went to buy a specific cooking book the older man had wanted but wasn't available online.

Ace bought a smoothie while Thatch got a coffee. They sat at one of the small tables, and Ace tried to ignore the laughing friends at the corner. He didn't look, not wanting to see a reminder of how things used to be.

But when he looked up at the booth that you took pictures in, he saw on the screen showing the photos being taken inside, who he wanted to see the least but also craved to see the most. Deuce, along with some other person. Both were smiling brightly. Ace felt a surge of anger. Of course he'd moved on already. Of course. He probably already was friends with this person when he was attempting to ghost his long-time best friend. What a lie.

He got up and threw the smoothie away, appetite gone. "Thatch, can we please leave the food court?" he asked in a surprisingly solid voice. Probably because he was holding onto the anger and not sorrow. Thatch nodded, not asking why, and the two hurried to the bookstore. Ace looked back at just the wrong time, and made eye contact with Deuce. He glared at Deuce, who made no expression and then turned around to talk to his friend.

"Fuck you, Deuce," Ace shouted, and stomped away with Thatch beside him. He knew his traitorous friend heard him, as the guy he was with asked what that was all about. They were already too far to hear Deuce's reply.

Thatch asked him, "That was your old friend?" Ace nodded silently, the anger turning to sorrow and self-hatred. Not for blowing up, but for how fast Deuce had moved on while Ace was still floundering, deep in depression, sinking lower everytime the small part of him tried to dig out of the quicksand. More like tar, tearing at his skin as he tried to claw his way out.

"I'm sorry, Ace," Thatch said sincerely. Ace flinched when the man put a comforting arm around Ace's shoulders. But he didn't pull away from the comfort. "Things will get better, I promise. Just gotta hang in there until that day comes." Ace wanted to laugh. Things would not get better. The urge to just end it all had flared when he saw Deuce's utter indifference.

When they arrived at the bookstore, Thatch went to buy his cookbook and Ace wandered to the medical area, just for curiosity sake. He found a section about mental illnesses. He was going to just walk away from them, feeling he didn't want to waste money, but was drawn to the cover of one about suicide with a photo of white tape in the shape of a body on a road. Ace slowly reached for it. He put it in the crook of his arm and picked out another, before hiding the covers from Thatch and paying separately. The older man didn't ask what they were, which Ace appreciated.

When they got back, Ace headed straight to his room with his backpack and books inside. He locked the door behind him and sat on the bed, putting his face in his hands. He felt like he was set back again. Seeing Deuce, brought back painful images of their last talk. That fucking asshole didn't care about Ace at all. Ace hated him! Fuck Deuce, he doesn't get to have so much power over Ace. He bet he wouldn't even be upset if Ace killed himself.

He pulled the books out, and started reading one. He couldn't relate to their story. It was very different from his own situation. More similar to Thatch, where the author lost her family. He abandoned that one, glad it had only been ten dollars. He went to the next one, which he liked much more. It was letters to the reader sent by people who were struggling or are struggling. Many adressed suicide, and Ace related to them much more.

Of course, they could be fabricated, but they were meaningful to him anyways. It was not enough to rule out ending his life. What was doing that most, now, was spite and hate to Deuce. He didn't want the asshole to have so much power over him. But that hate did not make him feel any less unwanted. Didn't help him change his depression.

He glared at the mirror in the bathroom. "You're weak. Man up. Get help or some shit. Fucking loser." He realized moments later that that wasn't the greatest motivational pep talk. He sighed and flopped onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling and sat back up. Standing up, he hid the two books under the bed, not wanting anyone to find them and realize how messed up Ace was.

Leaving the room with flimsy resolve, Ace walked downstairs to look for Whitebeard. Maybe seeing a counselor would be best. But when he came across the man in the living room, Ace stopped, and turned back around. He didn't need help from anyone. He could deal with this shit. He would not let Deuce have the last laugh. He wasn't going to kill himself and let Deuce win. Surely he wouldn't care about Ace's death.

But how would he get the last laugh? He was angry that Deuce wasn't in the pain Ace was. And he hated it. He knew he was weak his whole life, but not like this. Not in this situation, not that he'd ever been in one like this one. Probably never gain, either. He'd never have a best friend again. He wouldn't let it, wouldn't open himself up to such pain.

He got a text from Sabo in his moping and self-hating thoughts. Sabo had messaged him multiple times. Ace thought maybe he wanted to be friends. He had no idea how messed up Ace was. Thatch and Marco knew, even if Marco didn't know everything that had happened to him recently. He didn't have the energy to be friends with Sabo, too. He needed baby steps. But he didn't want to hurt Sabo's feelings. He was kind and friendly. If Ace was better, maybe he'd want to be friends, too.

So, Ace messaged back. He wouldn't hurt someone else. He felt terrible, though. Deuce had faked his texts at the end, too. He hadn't been honest with Ace. but this was very different. He barely knew Sabo.

When Sabo asked if he wanted to study again, Ace declined but was honest. _I'm sorry Sabo. There's a lot going on in my life right now. I don't have the mental energy to go out and try to be happy. Once I'm better, I'll do more. I'm sorry._

Sabo texted a couple minutes later. _No problem. I hope things get better soon. If you ever need help with studying or just to talk, text me!_

_Thanks._

He was going to go get a snack when his phone buzzed again. He thought it was Sabo, but scowled when he saw who it was. Deuce. Well Ace didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to see anything mean or anything nice. He didn't want to be more confused or angry at him. It was already taking everything he had not to punch his hand into the mirror again in anger this time.

Before he read it, he deleted the text and blocked the number. His relationship with Deuce was over. They were never going to be friends again. After the incident at the mall, he realized Deuce didn't give a shit about him anymore. He would move on as best as he could. He'd have the last laugh, damn it. And he didn't regret deleting the text and blocking him. It was his own way of ending it. He would stick with it. No longer did he fool himself that deuce would take him back someday. Deuce didn't deserve to have him forgive him. The way he reacted to Ace that day was abhorrent for a former best-friend. Clearly _former._

After getting a banana from downstairs, he came back and wrote more in his story. It would fill his journal soon. He'd written that much in the short amount of time. It was crazy how much he'd gotten into it. He had no plan on where it was going, he just wrote as it came.

Thatch knocked on his door as he wrote, and Ace shoved it under his pillow and went to the door. "Hey, Ace. Since you missed out on finishing your smoothie, I made you one. If you're not hungry, you can just put it in the freezer." He smiled kindly at the younger.

Ace took it and thanked him. Before Thatch turned around, he blurted out, "Deuce texted me. I didn't look and deleted it before blocking him. He's not gonna have the last laugh. I'm not pinning after him anymore. I'll move on." He was surprised at what he'd said. Thatch beamed at him, something Ace rarely saw from the man.

"And I'll help you when you want it. Same with Marco. I haven't told him anything, it's your business. But maybe he's trustworthy. Just think about it. Dinner will be chicken, couscous and bell peppers. Do you like red or green?"

"Both please," Ace said, smiling softly at Thatch's kind words. Thatch started to walk away, but Ace stopped him. "Thatch, do you want to be my friend?" he asked with an uneasy face on.

Thatch smiled almost sadly at him. "We've been friends for a while," and he walked away.

-x-

There were three weeks of the semester left, and Ace was looking to definitely pass math with the help of both Marco and Sabo. Ace felt he didn't deserve Sabo, who accepted when Ace declined any other meetings other than tutor sessions. He'd apologized, but Sabo said he understood that life can be stressful, and that this was a necessity.

He got another B on the next test, though it was lower one. Ace couldn't be happier, though. But the happiness was doused with sadness and confusion. He hadn't heard from or seen Deuce again, which was good. Perhaps it was a good thing to see him that day. See how indiferent he was for his former "friend". Ace now knew there was no chance to go back to how they were.

Anger was there, gradually pushing out the pain. Anger fueled him to continue, not let Deuce's shit make him fail any class for his last semester. Every day that passed, Ace grew more uncertain and worried. He hadn't told Thatch or Marco, who had also said they were already friends when he asked Marco, about his unease.

Having read the whole book of letters dedicated to troubled readers, he had a map out about his road to healing. He compared the stories of those in the book and made a visual map on a piece of paper of what he needed to do to get there. He was averse to medication, not wanting to risk impulsively overdosing. His friends didn't know that was why. He never mentioned suicidal thoughts.

He had not attempted counseling again, and wouldn't. He didn't trust his feelings with a near stranger, professional or not. He got enough counseling from Thatch and Marco. Ace was still closer to Thatch, but was friends with Marco.

The people in that house were very patient with Ace. Months in, and he was still uncomfortable eating in the dining room table with the others. Thatch sat with him more often than not. Even if Thatch was many years older than Ace, they were equals in their friendship.

Marco had bought Ace another journal as a surprise gift for getting another B on his math test that he'd helped him study for. Ace didn't decline it, and thanked him with a smile. His story was still ongoing, but there was no more room in the journal. 300 pages filled with the story Ace was writing. Maybe someday he'd post it somewhere.

Ace was in bed one Thursday, looking at the ceiling. He'd been thinking of the future more without meaning to. He thought about doing things "someday". Meaning his subconscious was no longer wanting to off himself. His plan was derailing. Or at least, what was a jumbled plan with no specifics. Only ifs and whens that no longer applied. He put his hand up, looking at the scars he had from punching the mirror. They were not visible well, but they would always be there. All his other injuries had long-since healed, and it was strange, still, to not have to hide bruises anywhere.

It was getting warmer and he could wear tank tops and shorts, not worrying about people seeing bruises. It was wonderful, but still new. After years and years of hiding them, there was no longer anything to hide. And he didn't self-harm, even if he'd once considered it strongly.

Ace met a problem at the end of week, two weeks left of school. His math was going along and Miss Nico said he'd pass, and he had already done all the tests and readings for his online class and completed all of the labs for his programming. He still needed to take the finals in both of those classes, but he was certain he'd pass the semester. Then the great unknown began: the future.

He was walking with Marco to the car, having accepted rides from him. Marco had been patient since they met, and Ace had finally come around. He was not close to Marco like he had been with Deuce, but he considered him a good friend.

Someone called his name, and his mouth turned down when he recognized the voice. "Marco, I'll be there in a minute. Will you wait for me?"

"Sure. Take your time," he said, and walked away while Ace turned around to see Deuce standing there, walking over. He crossed his arms.

"What are you doing here," Ace said in a flat voice. He no longer looked at Deuce with pain or thought about him with pain. He had genuine dislike now.

The blue haired man said, "I learnt about everything that happened with your dad. That he's in jail for beating you. Why didn't you contact me?" Ace scoffed.

"Because that was your fault in the first place," he said in a cold voice, not sparing Deuce's feelings when he didn't spare Ace's. "Now, I'm busy. Go away." Deuce looked upset at that, and Ace didn't know what he was expecting. He broke Ace into tiny pieces and expected Ace to be happy to see him?

"Wait. If you ever want to talk, or be friends again, I'm here," he said and Ace stopped walking. He took a deep breath and turned back around to end it for good. There were going to be no misunderstandings. And he wasn't going to sugarcoat anything or be kind.

He replied, "I will never be your friend again. You will never be mine. You've done enough damage as it is, I'm not going to risk you doing it again. You're selfish and don't care about my feelings. And I'm through with tagging along, being the one holding onto a dying relationship with my last breath. I won't ever forgive you for what you've put me through these last months. It's over forever. Don't try to contact me again, it's a moot point. Have a nice life," he said in a cold voice. He didn't stay long enough to hear his response.

Ace felt… pride, that he didn't cry. He didn't accept Deuce. He had worried that would happen, and he'd become attached again, forgive all of the pain he'd been through for that man. No tears were made. Instead, a shaky smile was formed on his face. All of the sudden, he felt free. He defeated the biggest demon he had. Himself, proving to himself that he could handle anything, even crushing the last chance to try and mend the rip that was in between them.

He could do anything if he could do that. He ran the rest of the way to Marco's car. Marco looked surprised with Ace's purely happy face. Ace was sure he'd never seen this face before. "I'll tell you when we get back." And he did. He opened up to Marco. Thatch was there, too, looking proud and happy for Ace after he told him about his and Deuce's confrontation.

"Thank you for being with me through this mess," Ace said to both of his good friends. They were each different, but all shared horrible pain sometime in their lives. They were nothing like Decue, who could never understand the horror that was Ace's mind and heart.

"Of course," Thatch said, and rubbed his hand on Ace's head affectionately. Marco nodded, and thanked him for telling him. He didn't get upset with how long it took Ace to tell him his full story. Marco didn't look down on him.

Things were not perfect. They'd probably never be perfect. He still had a ways to go, still hadn't shared a meal with the rest of them. He knew he'd slowly been healing, but had not been able to test it until today. With the ultimate test, steeling himself and doing what was best for him. It was best for him to be strong, take care of himself and not flock back to someone that caused him so much pain.

Maybe everything wasn't Deuce's fault. Ace already had low self-esteem, but his ex-friend's actions had spiraled him down and down and down. To deep darkness where he didn't see any way out. He was still crawling up the long walls, but he had people waiting for him at the surface, cheering him on.

He would pass, he would graduate, and he would _live._ He was going to be brave and face the future as best as he could, and not give in and kill himself. Who would have thought getting stuck at this place would have been the best thing for him? Things were better than they were and would continue to get better.

Ace was sure that the worst part of hell was far behind him.

The end


End file.
